CAPTAIN 
SAZARAC 


CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 


By 
CHARLES  TENNEY  JACKSON 

Author  of 

THE  DAY  OF  SOULS,  MY  BROTHER'S  KEEPER. 
THE  M1DLANDERS.  JOHN  THE  FOOL.  Etc, 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


Copyright.  1922 

BY  THE  BOBBS-MERR1LL  COMPANY 


if  th>  United  Stalog  rf  America 


To 

CARLOTTA  OF  OLD  NEW  ORLEANS 


962342 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I     IF    JEAN     WERE    HERE       . I 

II     A   SHIP  FOR  A   PIRATE'S   EYE 28 

III  THE    WAGER    Is    CLAIMED 42 

IV  THE    OLD    SEA-ROVERS    AWAKEN     ....     60 
V    Two  GENTLEMEN  OF  MYSTERY 78 

VI     THE  MASK   Is   DROPPED 91 

VII    IN    THE    OLD    HAUNTS 108 

VIII  THE  REVELERS  OF  THE  PLACE  D'ARMES     .     .128 

IX    A    QUESTION    OF    DIPLOMACY 157 

X    THE    LONG     CHASE 168 

XI    THE   LADY  OF  THE  GENARON 183 

XII     THE  PARTING  OF  THE  PATHS 196 

XIII  MONSIEUR — OF   THE    CANNON    SHOT      .     .     .  212 

XIV  A  FLOWER  FOR  A  RAGGED  FELLOW     ....  244 
XV  THE    BOTTLE    EMPEROR    RETURNS      ....  261 

XVI    THE   LOOT   OF    A    BUCCANEER 296 


CAPTAIN 
SAZARAC 


CAPTAIN  SAZARAC. 

CHAPTER  J,       r  .         , 

IF  JEAN  WERE  HERE 

THE  affair  was  one  in  which,  to  this  point, 
the  young  Count  de  Almonaster  had  taken  the 
slightest  interest.  But  now  the  name  of  his 
aunt,  the  Baroness  Pontalba,  was  upon  the 
lips  of  the  portly  alderman  of  Old  New  Or 
leans;  and  when,  in  turn,  Beluche,  the  swarthy 
admiral  of  the  Cartagenian  privateers,  ad 
verted  to  her,  the  languid  aristocrat  shook 
with  laughter. 

"Ho,  Monsieur  Dominique !  You,  the  fat  and 
prosperous  councilor  of  the  American  Quar 
ter  who,  they  say,  finds  the  city's  politics 
even  better  picking  than  were  your  days  of 
piracy  with  Jean  Lafitte — you,  you,  then,  it 
was,  who  enticed  my  good  aunt  to  giving  ten 
thousand  of  the  new  Yankee  dollars  to  build 

1 


2  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

the  house  in  which  Napoleon  is  to  spend  his 
last  days  on  the  rue  Chartres!  And  you — 
Beluche — for  whom,  even  to-day,  any  flag 
will  serve!  A  grand  scheme,  this,  to  rescue 
Bonaparte  from  the  English!  What  next  for 
us  fantastic  Creoles?" 

"Monsieur!  Not  so  loud,  I  beg!  An  affair 
of  state,  this,  and  half  the  gentry  of  Louisiana 
is  in  it.  But  the  new  American  governor — 
eh,  Men!  At  Washington,  where  the  Eng 
lish  are  now  so  well  received,  it  might  be  em 
barrassing—this  plot — " 

But  De  Almonaster  shouted  the  louder.  The 
admiral  of  Cartagena  spluttered;  the  honest 
councilor  rubbed  his  velvet-clad  paunch  and 
pleaded  for  silence.  The  young  man's  glance 
went  from  the  two  one-time  buccaneers  out 
the  door  of  Maspero's  Exchange  to  the  shining 
new  plaster  and  green  shutters  of  the  House 
Napoleon;  his  hand  went  to  the  black  silk 
stock  at  his  neck  to  check  further  amusement. 

"A  plot,  old  scalawags!  By  St.  Louis — a 
plot!  Oh,  la!  On  that  gallery  the  man  who 
played  the  devil's  bowls  with  the  thrones  of 
all  Europe  is  to  sit  and  mull  over  the  affairs 
of  the  Vieux  Carre!  This  degenerate  town, 


IF, WAN  WKHK  IIKKK  3 

already  with  the  manners  of  an  American 
frontier  and  the  brawls  of  a  West  India  col 
ony!  Kb,  Hie  emperor!  And  once,  we  rescue 
him  from  St.  Helena,  who  shall  entertain  him, 
pray?  Ah,  my  good  aunt,  she  shall  waddle 
in  from  her  gold-front  rhaise  wiih  its  outrid 
ers  and  postilion  to  say,  'Good  Sir,'  or  'Excel 
lency/  or  'Your  Majesty'  or  whatever  our 
eager  pot-house  cavaliers  may  determine  is 
proper  she  shall  curtsey  and  say:  'Make 
yourself  at  home-  I  have  fifty  thousand 
francs  invested  to  make  you  feel  at  ease!'' 

Beluche  short,  dark,  restlessly  glancing 
about,  his  black  eyes  narrowing  as  if  he  would 
be  done  with  talk  and  to  sea  again  growled 
surlily.  Admiral  of  the  New  (iranada  rebels 
he  might  be,  but  to  his  old  cronies  of  the 
coffee-houses  he  was  still  the  Haralarian 
gunner  who  fought  the  pirates*  battery  on  the 
right  of  Jackson's  line  at  Chalmelle  against 
the  British;  and  he  made  as  wry  a  face  as 
any  of  Lafitle's  lieutenants  when  the  grateful 
young  Republic  of  the  North  pardoned  the 
buccaneers  rn  nuissa. 

Hut  the  worthy  Alderman  Dominique 
sighed  at  the  younger  man's  jeers. 


4  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

"We  had  thought,  Monsieur,  that — being  of 
what  is  conceded  to  be  the  proudest  family 
of  Louisiana — you  would  lend  generously  to 
the  plot—" 

"Plot?"  Again  the  Count  Raoul  mocked  as 
he  looked  across  the  cobbles  at  the  fresh  paint 
upon  the  huge  wooden  shutters  of  the  House 
Napoleon;  he  flung  his  jeweled  fingers  airily 
back  to  the  shadowy  tap-room :  "Ho,  fellow ! 
The  rum  and  limes!  Be  on  with  them,  but 
tread  softly — we  have  a  plot!" 

The  two  old  adventurers  gazed  at  the 
slender  figure  in  some  consternation.  "Plot !" 
De  Almonaster  made  the  rafters  ring  with  it : 
"Threescore  carpenters,  plasterers  and  what 
not,  slaves  and  free  men  of  color — labor  all 
summer  at  this  royal  domicile;  the  very  fig 
sellers  of  the  Place  d'Armes  mewl  away  about 
it  to  sailormen  of  every  sea — I,  myself,  across 
the  Caribbean,  or  at  Port  Royal,  am  ques 
tioned  as  to  what  the  bravos  of  New  Orleans 
mean  by  this  madness;  and  when  I  come 
home  I  am  enticed  to  a  public  house,  and 
whispered  to  of  a — plot!" 

"Eh,  bien!  It  is  a  plot—"  Old  Dominique 
rubbed  his  nose.  "We  have  the  money,  the 
ship,  the  spirit,  the— well,  everything.*' 


IF  JEAN  WERE  HERE  5 

"Except  the  emperor!  Bonaparte,  cooped 
up  on  his  isle  with  England  watching!  Pray, 
good  sirs, — who  will  bell  the  cat?" 

The  admiral  shrugged  and  tasted  his  limed 
rum  of  Barbadoes.  The  young  De  Almonaster 
heard  two  dolorous  sighs.  It  was,  indeed,  a 
quiet  life  and  a  shameful  pass  when  two 
worthy  buccaneers  of  but  a  decade  agone  sat 
at  their  drink  to  be  gibed  by  an  incredulous 
aristocrat. 

"Eh,  well — "  mumbled  old  Dominique  ab 
sently.  "If  Jean  were  here  he  would  go 
rescue  Napoleon  for  these  Creoles.  Ho,  old 
cutthroat,  if  the  Captain  Lafitte  walked  these 
streets  again  there  wrould  be  an  end  to  chat 
ter!  Eh,  the  old  days!  The  good  wine  and 
the  plunder  down  the  Barataria  passes !  And 
I — name  of  God! — am  now  the  alderman  for 
the  American  Quarter!" 

"The  Americans,"  retorted  De  Almonaster 
soberly,  "are  taking  all  the  Faubourg  St. 
Marie.  The  flatboat  Kentuckies  are  now 
squatting  in  shanties  all  along  the  old  city 
walls.  And,  my  friends,  the  trade  is  going 
there !  The  new  steamboats  down-river  are  a 
veritable  swarm  along  the  old  Tchoupitoulas 
Road  where,  as  a  boy,  riding  to  school,  I  saw, 


6  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

nothing  but  the  Indians  weaving  baskets.  The 
Terre  Commune  outside  the  moat;  the  Calle 
de  Almazen,  where  the  Spaniards  had  their 
warehouses — look  what  the  Yankees  are  do 
ing!  They  are  building  another  New  Or 
leans,  and  political  power  follows  trade.  La 
Belle  New  Orleans  of  Carondelet  and  the 
viceroys,  is  passing  as  a  dream,  while  our 
thriftless  gallants  amuse  themselves  with 
this  latest  fancy — building  a  refuge  for  the 
fallen  emperor  of  the  French!" 

"The  town  was  never  more  prosperous,*5 
protested  the  alderman.  "See  what  the 
steamboats  have  done  since  they  came  five 
years  ago!  The  revenues  are  excellent 
since—" 

And  again  the  young  man  shouted  his 
amusement:  "Since  you,  my  friend,  took  the 
president's  pardon  and  forsook  plundering 
the  seas  for  a  seat  in  the  council!  Dominique 
— once  Jean  Lafitte's  lieutenant  on  the  Black 
Petral — mulling  over  tax  budgets  and  street 
contracts !" 

"But  last  year,  Monsieur,"  blustered  Dom 
inique,  "I  entertained  at  dinner  the  General 
Jackson  himself.  His  only  visit  here  since 


IF  JEAN  WERE  HERE  7 

Captain  Jean  and  Beluche  and  I  fought  with 
him  against  the  British.  That  ought  to  show 
you  how  we  stand,  eh?  Captain  Jean,  it  may 
be,  found  the  role  of  a  pardoned  privateer  a 
trifle  irksome;  or  he  may  have  been  sent  to 
the  bottom  of  the  gulf,  as  some  say,  when 
the  Spaniards  took  his  fort  on  Galveston 
Bay." 

The  grim  admiral  of  Cartagena  growled 
and  thrust  back  his  long  black  hair.  "That, 
I  do  not  believe.  Our  captain  was  not  such  a 
ninny — he  who  outfought,  outsailed,  out- 
laughed  them  all  about  the  Indies.  The  Eng 
lish  sank  his  sloop,  it  is  true,  but  Jean  did  not 
wait  to  be  cooped  up  between  them  and  the 
king  o'  Spain's  men  ashore.  You  can  lay  to 
that,  sirs!" 

"You  should  know,"  grunted  Dominique. 
"If  he  lives  you  should  get  a  word  o'  him 
about  the  old  haunts — and  nothing  comes — 
nothing/' 

"It  is  a  quiet  life  at  sea,"  Beluche  shrugged. 
"Even  the  slave  trade  languishes.  Captain 
Disto,  I  hear,  lost  his  last  cargo  o'  blacks, 
drowned  off  Dauphin  Island  rather  than  have 
them  taken.  And  in  Washington — what?  The 


8  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

politicos  talk,  while  good  ships  rot  at  their 
moorings!  The  world  has  become  a  tame 
house-dog  with  not  a  flea  to  scratch  its  hide. 
Old  days  are  done  I  fear,  Monsieur  Dom 
inique." 

The  young  Almonaster  mused  over  his  lime 
and  rum.  "There  is  the  West,"  he  began 
slowly.  "Down  the  Mississippi  come  now  the 
flatboat  men  with  their  pelts  to  trade  and  to 
brawl  month-long  in  the  brothels  among  the 
river  willows.  It  is  curious  the  numbers  who 
have  arrived  of  late.  Canadians,  trappers, 
voyageurs,  rivermen — and  they  do  not  return, 
neither  do  they  lack  goods.  And  gossip  comes 
from  Kentucky  of  some  seditious  matter 
again;  quarrels  of  politicians;  threats  that  a 
new  republic  might  still  arise  in  the  West 
such  as,  but  a  few  years  since,  brought  Aaron 
Burr  to  the  Mississippi  territories.  Already 
river  adventurers  have  gone  from  our  peace 
ful  Louisiana  parishes  into  the  Sabine  settle 
ments  and  come  to  brawling  with  the  Span 
iards.  I  have  it,  gentlemen,  that  the  new 
American  governor  is  warned  that  any  trouble 
in  the  West  might  revive  again  the  old  claims 
of  Spain  and  England;  for  whatever  treaties 


IF  JEAN  WERE  HERE  9 

were  signed  at  Ghent  the  monarchists  of  Eu 
rope  never  had  a  stomach  for  Bonaparte's 
cession  of  Louisiana  to  the  Americans." 

The  raven-haired  admiral  of  Cartagena 
drained  his  rum.  "Name  of  the  devil !  What 
have  we  to  do  with  Washington,  England,  or 
Spain?  The  admiralties  ruined  our  fortunes 
o'  the  seas!  And  what  has  the  town  come  to 
since  the  privateering  trade  fell  with  Lafitte's 
last  stronghold?" 

He  uprose  in  his  resplendent  blue  and  gold 
shore  clothes,  his  hard  fist  to  his  saber  hilt: 
and,  with  some  difficulty,  adjusted  his  vast 
cockade  hat.  De  Almonaster  smiled  aside. 
The  worthy  alderman  sighed.  Beluche,  once 
of  the  Black  Petral,  togged  out  in  this  respect 
able  splendor  of  the  puny  republic  across  the 
Caribbean ! 

"Admiral — -"  old  Dominique  winked.  "And 
were  I  a  Spanishman  out  of  the  Mexicoes  with 
bullion  under  the  hatches,  I  would  turn  tail 
from  this  admiral  and  flee  as  from  the  devil. 
His  virtue  is  too  recent!" 

"Bah!"  fumed  the  admiral.  "And  were  I 
a  customs  officer,  and  came  on  a  bale  of 
smuggled  silk  down  Barataria  I  would  follow 


10  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

a  trail  that  might  lead — who  knows? — not  so 
far  from  the  city  council  chamber?" 

The  alderman  slapped  his  contented  and 
rotund  belly.  "Eh,  well,  old  blusterer!  You 
and  I — it  is  not  so  long  since  Lafitte's  men 
swaggered  these  streets  with  fists  of  gold  and 
none  durst  molest  them.  I  can  remember 
how  the  haughty  Creole  belles  flouted  our 
captain  at  the  mayor's  ball,  and  their  fami 
lies'  fortunes  were  built  upon  his  sea  ven 
turing  !" 

The  young  De  Almonaster  listened  indiffer 
ently.  A  slim-faced,  olive-cheeked  youth  with 
straight  black  eyebrows  and  a  thin  line  of  a 
mustache — already  with  his  three  duellos  be 
hind  him;  and  but  this  year  returned  from 
his  voyage  de  rigueur  to  Paris,  which  every 
gallant  of  his  day  must  make  to  come  home 
with  the  court  polish  and  gossip  that  com 
pleted  his  education — the  count  had  spent 
his  recent  months  on  his  plantations  in  St. 
James  and  took  little  heed  of  the  frivolities 
of  the  fashionables  in  La  Nouvelle  Orleans. 

And  the  two  pardoned  and  punctilious  buc 
caneers  of  a  decade  agone  but  amused  him. 
The  plot  Napoleon — the  new,  green-shuttered 
house  across  the  rue  Chartres  from  Mas- 


IF  JEAN  WERE  HERE  11 

pero's;  the  black,  trim,  Yankee  clipper  lying 
in  the  river,  purchased  and  outfitted  by  the 
ardent  blades  of  the  city  for  this  wild  intrigue 
to  rescue  the  fallen  emperor — also  amused 
him.  But  now  he  leaned  across  the  board  and 
spoke  seriously: 

"I,  too,  have  a  memory  of  Jean  Lafitte.  I 
was  a  lad  when  General  Jackson  came  back 
from  the  victory  at  Ghalmette.  Old  Toinette 
and  my  grand-aunt  took  me  to  the  cathedral 
when  the  general  made  his  entry  from  the 
Place  d'Armes  with  the  beauties  of  New  Or 
leans  casting  their  wreaths  before  the  great 
American  soldier  they  had  ridiculed  but  a 
week  agone.  I  escaped  the  dames  and  was 
wriggling  through  the  throngs  to  see  the  cere 
mony.  A  tall  man  in  white  leather  breeches 
stood  in  my  way — I  kicked  and  pummeled 
him,  bawling  that  I  must  see  the  great  Ameri 
can  general.  He  looked  down — a  fair-skinned 
man  with  dark  eyes,  and  the  trace  of  a  dandy 
about  him.  He  inquired,  and  then  hoisted  me 
to  his  shoulder.  And  at  that,  up  bustled 
Toinette  to  snatch  me  away  in  horror.  I  kept 
staring  at  my  tall  man,  and  back  in  the  Plaza, 
Toinette  gasped :  'Be  still !  That  pirate  had 
you!  Captain  Lafitte  of  Barataria !'  " 


12  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

"Eh,  you  were  honored,  Monsieur!"  chuck 
led  old  Dominique.  "Ah,  that  day!  Beluche, 
will  you  remember  our  fellows  running  all 
the  way  from  Fort  St.  John,  dragging  the 
twenty-four-pounders  o'  Bat'ry  Three?  Eh, 
old  robber?" 

"Aye — a  pirate?  They  did  not  call  Jean  so 
that  day !  Who  was  there,  as  this  young  man 
says,  so  dignified,  so  much  the  gentleman  and 
scholar  as  our  captain— a  pirate,  still  unpar- 
doned?  Who  saved  the  city  from  the  British 
but  the  six  hundred  scoundrels  he  led  up  from 
Grand  Terre  to  work  the  Yankee  guns?  Jean 
— who,  but  the  year  before,  turned  down  the 
king's  gold  and  a  royal  commission  to  save 
this  babblers'  town!" 

"He  had  the  eyes  of  all  the  women  on  him," 
grumbled  old  Dominique.  "Do  you  recall  the 
story  of  the  governor's  wife  and  our  captain 
at  Monsieur  Berthoud's  plantation?  Jean! — 
he  would  go  filch  this  emperor  from  under 
every  frigate  England  could  muster!  Aye — 
if  Jean  were  here !" 

The  young  fashionable  listened  amusedly. 
The  shadows  lengthened  across  the  cobbles  to 
the  pretentious  House  Napoleon.  The  dim 


IF  JEAN  WERE  HERE  13 

front  barroom  of  La  Bourse  de  Maspero  was 
quite  deserted,  save  for  a  table  of  provincial 
planters  from  the  river  parishes  here  and 
there.  But  suddenly  the  drone  of  voices  from 
the  gaming  place  in  the  rear  was  cut  off  by  a 
slamming  door. 

A  man  had  staggered  out.  Tall,  uncouth,  of 
disorderly  attire,  not  at  all  in  the  fashion, 
ragged  at  the  sleeves — he  stared  at  them  with 
swollen  eyes  set  in  a  drink-flushed  face.  The 
empty  scabbard  of  a  small  sword  rattled  at 
his  muddy  boot-tops;  his  silken-lined  cloak 
and  round  velvet  cap  gave  him  the  aspect  of  a 
rather  solemn  and  nervous  poseur. 

"Devil  take  the  dice!"  He  saw  the  elegant 
De  Almonaster,  and  came  briskly  nearer: 
"Back  with  me,  Raoul — watch!  An  affair, 
Raoul,  that  will  call  me  out  to  the  Oaks 
sleepy-eyed  some  morning  this  week.  The 
stranger,  Sazarac,  has  the  English  colonel  be 
witched.  A  Sazarac ! — I  wish  something  more 
than  drink  could  draw  all  eyes  to  me!  A 
pistoling  fellow,  eh,  bien!" 

John  Jarvis  thrust  his  blinking  gray  eyes 
nearer:  "A  rapier  bully,  Messieurs — such  as 
this  Sazarac  .  .  .  there's  a  woman  in  it 
without  doubt" 


14  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

The  town's  first  Bohemian  of  the  arts  and 
letters,  a  graceless  scribbler,  painter — wast 
rel  of  the  wine-shops,  for  all  he  was  the 
nephew  of  the  great  John  Wesley  in  Eng 
land.  He  slept,  worked  and  ate  in  a  dirty 
studio  up  on  the  rue  Conti,  where,  unknown 
as  yet  to  the  world,  there  labored  a  young  as 
sistant  who  painted  backgrounds  for  Jarvis's 
portraits,  but  who  was  destined  for  fame 
when  the  gamesters  and  politicians  of  the 
New  Orleans  of  1821  had  been  long  forgot 
ten — Monsieur  Audubon,  but  lately  arrived 
from  the  Indies. 

Jarvis  tapped  the  table  for  a  drink,  looking 
about  to  see  who  might  pay  the  score.  "Pis 
tols — "  he  grunted.  "I  trust  this  Sazarac 
wings  the  Britisher  at  least,  though  if  he  does, 
I  shall  see  liquor  from  his  veins  and  not  blood. 
The  fellow  can  drink  more  than  I  which  is 
intolerable.  It  reflects  on  my  reputation. 
.  I  shall  challenge  myself  if  Sazarac 
does  not!" 

"They  are  to  fight?"  queried  De  Almonaster 
languidly. 

"They  will.  I  know  the  course  of  these  af 
fairs.  I  attend  them  all,  Raoul.  I  am  the 


IF  JEAN  WERE  HERE  15 

black  buzzard  who  is  earliest  to  roost  at  the 
Dueling  Oaks  and  wish  them  bad  luck — all. 
Three  times  this  month  I  have  crawled  from 
bed  at  abominable  hours  for  entertainment, 
and  nom  de  Dieu!  Nothing  but  an  ear 
clipped  from  the  Spaniard,  Santanya;  a  shoe 
full  of  blood  from  an  Acadian  planter — and 
the  last  two  worthies  shook  hands  and  quit. 
God,  what  is  the  town  coming  to,  that  I  miss 
my  breakfast  over  such  matters?" 

The  first  Bohemian  of  the  Vieux  Carre 
rubbed  his  nose :  "Another  drink,  Monsieur? 
Wait — we  shall  go  in  presently  when  the  af 
fair  becomes  provocative.  This  Sazarac  has 
a  steady  eye,  and  Colonel  Garr  is  bent  upon 
an  insult." 

De  Almonaster  shrugged  his  distaste:  "I 
was  speaking  of  the  new  sugar  process  at 
Monsieur  Bore's — " 

"Oh,  no!"  returned  Jarvis  airily.  "You 
were  discussing  the  plot.  Why  sit  with 
Dominique,  the  alderman,  and  Beluche,  the 
admiral,  save  upon  our  nice  intrigue?  Ho!" 
he  roared  suddenly,  so  that  the  glasses 
quivered:  "Be  discreet!  —  our  plot  Na 
poleon!" 


16  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

The  two  former  buccaneers  looked  wryly 
at  him.  "The  devil  take  you,  Jarvis,"  growled 
Beluche.  "It  was  of  old  days,  and  our  van 
ished  captain.  You,  yourself,  whom  Jean 
rescued  from  perdition  once — " 

"The  plot!"  shouted  Jarvis  so  loudly  that 
even  bystanders  across  the  cobbled  way 
looked  into  the  shadowy  portals  of  Maspero's. 
"Ah,  I  am  going  to  my  studio,  gentlemen!  I 
have  an  idea !  My  new  assistant  is  very  clever 
at  painting  birds — Monsieur  Audubon  is  crazy 
to  paint  birds !  He  sprinkles  salt  on  their  tails 
to  catch  them.  Now  I  shall  take  our  plot  to 
the  studio,  and  Monsieur  Audubon  shall  paint 
salt  upon  it  to  catch  the  Emperor  Napoleon." 

The  two  worthies  glowered  upon  him.  De 
Almonaster's  idle  laugh  rang  out.  He,  too, 
arose  with  Jarvis,  and  the  latter  could  not 
resist  a  last  gibe  at  his  cronies.  "The  alder 
man  and  the  admiral — and  in  the  one  picture 
that  I  cared  about,  done  down  at  Lafitte's  red 
fort  before  the  Americans  plundered  it,  I  had 
the  bad  taste  to  paint  them  in  with  my  cap 
tain!  What  a  downfall! — from  piracy  to 
politics  for  Dominique;  and  old  Beluche 
blustering  about  having  a  lawful  commis- 


IF  JEAN  WERE  HERE  17 

sion!"  He  put  an  unsteady  finger  on  the 
laughing  De  Almonaster's  sleeve:  "Gome  on, 
Raoul!  There  is  no  more  romance  since  La- 
fitte  abandoned  the  town  to  the  steamboat 
Yankees;  and  yet,  last  evening,  upon  the 
Esplanade,  I  saw  a  woman's  face.  I — Raoul — 
unshaven,  dirty,  idle — looked  back  at  her 
coach.  I,  Raoul — hanging  to  a  lamp-post — 
made  her  smile!" 

Again  De  Almonaster's  light  laughter  came. 
He  motioned  the  jester  toward  the  gaming- 
rooms.  "The  lady  who  arrived  with  the  Brit 
ish  colonel's  party?  Of  course — I  am  told  she 
had  the  gallants  astir  when  she  drove." 

Jarvis  nodded  absently:  "They  are  wishing 
no  bad  luck  to  Colonel  Garr  beyond  that  this 
Sazarac  shoots  him  to-morrow  at  the  Oaks. 
Eh,  well — come !" 

From  the  door  they  could  see  the  throng  in 
La  Rourse  de  Maspero.  There,  each  morning, 
among  the  idling  jeunesse  doree,  came  also 
the  leaders  of  the  city's  commerce  and  plant 
ers  of  the  parishes;  and  still,  to  be  "in  trade" 
fit  ill  upon  the  Creole  gentry — dealing  in 
goods  was  a  plebeian  affair  to  be  left  to  the 
Yankees  and  rivermen.  The  old  planters  sat 


18  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

apart  to  sip  their  eau  sucree  and  drowse  over 
their  dominoes;  but  at  a  smaller  alcove  was 
the  table  that  drew  the  younger  bloods  as  by 
a  magnet.  The  latest  gossip  of  Europe — only 
twenty-five  days  out  from  Boulogne;  the 
affairs  of  the  restored  Bourbon  Court  as  re 
ported  in  the  Courier  de  la  Louisiane, — 
were  left  to  the  provincials;  and  the  wide 
door  of  the  small  room  was  packed  with  si 
lent  attentive  youths. 

Jarvis  twitched  the  coat  of  the  nearest. 
"What  has  happened,  De  Marigny?  Is  the 
devil  still  dicing  as  to  which  to  take?" 

"Carr  loses  steadily."  Young  Marigny  had 
but  recently  attained  fame  by  naming  a  street 
of  the  Faubourg  Marigny — his  patrimony  now 
being  cut  into  lots  and  sold  to  the  insatiable 
Americans  outside  the  city  walls — -"Rue  de 
Bagatelle,"  to  commemorate  his  losses  at  the 
game.  He  therefore  parted  the  skirts  of  his 
bottle-green  coat,  thrust  his  hands  upon  his 
breeches  of  snow-white  leather  and  tapped 
them  significantly:  "A  ruined  man.  Eh, 
Men!  The  British  consul,  Langhorne,  pro 
tested,  seemingly  very  uncomfortable  at  Col 
onel  Carr's  insistance  at  play  with  this 
Captain  Sazarac,  who,  it  is  said,  is  a  mere 


IF  JEAN  WERE  HERE  19 

professional  gambler  of  the  river  packets 
with  the  manners  of  a  gentleman.  I  will  say 
he  has  acted  so — he  tried  in  every  way  to 
avoid  Carr's  game,  but  it  appears  that  the 
British  officer  involved  himself  badly  on  the 
way  from  St.  Louis." 

"How  then?"  ventured  De  Almonaster.  "A 
professional  gamester  at  Maspero's?" 

"Carr,  himself,  introduced  the  fellow;  the 
game  must  continue,"  young  De  Marigny 
shrugged;  "and  there  is  talk  of  some  affair  of 
women  between  the  two!" 

"The  lady  who  looked  back  from  her 
coach — "  mused  Jarvis  to  himself.  "I  must 
get  me  a  new  waistcoat." 

A  massive  silver  candelabrum  cast  a  ruby 
light  upon  the  cloth  about  which  sat  a  quar 
tette.  Langhorne,  His  Majesty's  Consul;  a 
dealer  of  Maspero's;  Colonel  Carr  of  the 
newly  arrived  British  Mission  en  route  to  the 
Mexicoes ;  and  the  stranger  from  the  West. 

"Sazarac — "  muttered  De  Marigny,  "whose 
fame  at  the  cards  has  overleaped  the  town  in 
one  night.  Mark  him,  Raoul! — a  peruke, 
whitened  as  silver!  Where  has  the  fellow 
been  these  years  as  to  know  not  the  fashions?" 

The   stranger's  face  was   all   but   averted. 


20  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

The  profile  gave  the  impression  of  utter 
obliviousness  to  the  crowded  room.  His  Eng 
lish  small-clothes  were,  indeed,  rather  passe 
for  the  period;  and  the  powdered  hair  above 
a  coat  of  blue  broadcloth,  his  buff  breeches, 
and  silk  stockings  thrust  into  low  silver- 
buckled  shoes  gave  a  quaint  distinction  to  his 
tall  figure.  The  two  young  men  watched  his 
bronzed  hand  turning  a  card  under  the  ruby 
light.  After  a  moment  Jarvis  yawned  audi 
bly;  and  then  a  nudge  came  between  him  and 
the  Count  de  Almonaster.  They  looked  down 
upon  the  short  stout  form  of  Dominique,  the 
alderman.  Behind  him  peered  Beluche,  the 
restless  seaman  of  Cartagena. 

"Lend  them  your  legs,  Monsieur  Raoul," 
commented  Jarvis:  "They  have  sat  on  their 
plot  so  long  they  are  decrepit." 

The  artist  strolled  again  to  the  barroom. 
Not  even  the  buzz  of  interest  that  followed  a 
violent  exclamation  in  the  card-room  lured 
him  again  from  his  cognac.  But  Dominique, 
the  alderman,  had  started  to  his  tiptoes  with 
a  curious  glance  at  his  fellow-buccaneer.  "A 
voice?"  he  whispered,  and  stared  past  the 
onlookers. 


IF  JEAN  WERE  HERE  21 

The  British  officer,  flushed  with  drink  and 
chagrin,  had  leaned  closer  to  his  opponent. 
"Do  you  question  my  word,  sir,  as  to  the  worth 
of  the  wench?  Put  her  upon  the  block  at  the 
Rotunda  to-morrow!  She  would  fetch  three 
thousand  dollars  at  Charleston;  and  in  this 
town,  sir,  if  you  will  find  a  fairer  one — slave, 
or  free  woman  of  color — or  even  among  its 
reputed  beauties — " 

There  was  a  stir;  the  Creole  gentlemen 
glanced  at  one  another  darkling.  Langhorne, 
the  consul,  raised  his  hand,  but  Sazarac  had 
answered  slowly. 

"Your  pardon,  sir.  I  did  not  know  the — 
the — she  was  a  chattel.  I  own  no  slaves,  sir, 
nor  do  I  care  to  wager  for  one." 

"You  shall  play  on,  sir.  You  have  ruined 
my  fortunes  on  this  river  voyage,  and  in  last 
night's  play !  I  demand  my  chance  at  retriev 
ing.  You  have  just  accepted  my  two  horses 
in  pledge.  Now,  then, — this  San  Domingo 
girl,  upon  the  card,  sir?" 

Sazarac  gathered  the  long  rough  surtout 
about  his  shoulders  as  if  to  arise.  The  consul 
whispered  to  the  red-faced  Carr.  The  dealer 
sat  back  with  a  glance  at  the  circle  of  faces. 


22  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"You  can  not  leave!"  Carr  cried  hoarsely. 
He  turned  to  those  behind  him :  "Gentlemen ! 
Is  it  customary,  in  New  Orleans,  for  a  loser  to 
be  refused  any  legitimate  wager  that  may  re 
instate  him?" 

There  was  a  murmur;  it  was  the  code  at 
Maspero's.  The  stranger  must  know.  De 
Marigny  whispered:  "He  has  Sazarac  there. 
The  stranger  must  play!" 

The  stranger  glanced  about.  Carr  struck 
the  table  violently. 

"It  is  my  privilege,  gentlemenl  A  card,  sir ! 
The  turn  of  one  card,  instead  of  running  the 
deal!  No  chance,  then,  for  trickery!" 

The  stillness  became  acute.  It  was  a  bad 
word  at  Maspero's.  De  Marigny  expected  the 
next  instant  to  see  the  unknown  gamester 
fling  his  glove  into  Carr's  face.  But  the  quiet 
profile  did  not  change.  Langhorne  clucked 
in  his  throat  -as  if  the  situation  was  intoler 
able — as  if,  indeed,  more  portentous  things 
than  a  slave  girl  hung  on  the  turn  of  the  card. 

"Heu!"  whispered  the  fat  alderman.  "I 
wish  I  could  see.  The  insult  is  coming!  We 
shall  all  miss  our  breakfast  to-morrow  morn 
ing!" 


IF  JEAN  WERE  HERE  23 

"Be  still."  RaouPs  dark  eyes  winced  with  a 
half-pity  .  .  .  the  stranger  had  passed  the  in 
sinuation  as  if  not  hearing.  The  crowd 
breathed  freer,  but  with  covert  amazement. 
The  unknown  gamester,  then,  would  not 
fight? 

"The  card,  then — "  Sazarac  went  on  slowly. 
"Three  thousand  dollars  on  the  red  against 
the  bond  girl." 

"Taken—"  Carr  bowed,  "The  black  will 
turn,  gentlemen!" 

The  dealer  threw  the  cards  in  a  semicircle 
across  the  cloth.  Deliberately,  but  with  a 
flash  of  his  white  fingers,  he  picked  one  at 
random  and  turned  it  up. 

It  was  the  ace  of  hearts. 

The  groups  watched  it  curiously.  Captain 
Sazarac  arose,  threw  his  cloak  higher  about 
his  face,  although  the  day  was  warm,  and 
turned  to  go.  The  dealer,  at  a  gesture  from 
him,  swept  the  notes  and  gold  upon  the  cloth, 
into  a  leather  bag.  The  groups  broke  up  with 
a  comment  here  and  there;  the  gentlemen  by 
the  door  gave  away  to  the  stranger  as  he 
advanced. 

Colonel  Carr  had  started  sullenly  at  this 


24  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

abrupt  dismissal  by  his  victorious  opponent. 
Whatever  wild  word  was  upon  the  ruined 
man's  lips  was  checked  by  the  consul's  mut 
tered  warning.  But  Carr,  too,  arose,  follow 
ing  a  pace  to  growl  over  the  crowd  at  the 
door. 

"The  girl,  sir,  will  be  at  your  disposal  at 
the  hotel  at  whatever  hour  you  claim  your 
property!" 

The  stranger  bowed.  Out  in  the  drinking- 
room  he  seemed  like  one  conscious  that  the 
eyes  of  all  New  Orleans'  men  of  affairs  were 
upon  him.  Alone  among  them,  he  snapped 
his  fingers  for  a  drink.  Quaffing  the  Madeira 
he  gathered  the  coat  about  him  and  strode  to 
the  door.  The  dandies  within  watched  him 
against  the  yellow  sunlight  on  the  cobbles.  A 
black  hostler  shambled  forward  with  the 
stranger's  horse. 

But  just  outside  the  door  he  stopped 
abruptly.  In  the  shadow  of  the  arched  court- 
way  of  St.  Louis  Street  two  squat,  short  fig 
ures,  their  heads  together,  their  arms  gesticu 
lating  wildly,  were  vainly  trying  each  to  quiet 
the  other. 

"You  know  it  is!"  gasped  the  worthy  alder- 


IF  JEAN  WERE  HERE  25 

man,  holding  his  side.  "By  the  Lord! — I  am 
not  fooled — no,  no!  Shaven  as  a  priest,  his 
hair  whited  as  an  English  squire's — muffled 
by  stock  and  peruke — no,  nothing  deceives 
these  old  eyes  of  mine !" 

"Thou  damned  fool — silence!"  whispered 
the  swarthy  admiral  of  Cartagena.  "Is  there 
not  still  a  price  upon  his  head — an  added 
price  since  he  renounced  the  president's  par 
don,  and  involved  himself  in  that  affair  of 
Galveston  Island?  Spanish,  English — the 
Americans,  too — they  would  hound  him  to  the 
gallows !" 

The  tall  cloaked  figure  was  passing.  Twen 
ty  paces  away,  the  entrance  to  La  Bourse  de 
la  Maspero  was  filled  with  watching 
burghers. 

And  from  them  all  a  young  man  had  ad 
vanced  smilingly.  In  his  full-skirted  green 
coat  and  shining  white  breeches  held  within 
his  polished  Hessian  boots,  the  young  Count 
de  Almonaster  bowed  gracefully  and  ex 
tended  a  hand  all  but  hidden  by  his  beruffled 
cuff. 

"At  the  green  room  of  Maspero's,  sir,  none 
play  save  those  to  whom  New  Orleans  extends 


26  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

its  hospitality.  If,  perchance,  at  any  time,  the 
name  of  a  gentleman  could  serve  in  a  possible 
affair,  I  am  the  grandson  of  Don  Almonas- 
ter  y  Roxas." 

"I  thank  you,  Monsieur."  The  stranger  ex 
tended  his  own.  "I  am  Captain  Caspar  Saz- 
arac,  recently  on  service  with  the  United 
States  explorations  in  the  West."  He 
shrugged  smilingly :  "I  thank  you,  Monsieur." 

He  turned  and  met  again  two  elderly  men 
who  stared  unbelievingly.  Then  the  gold- 
laced  admiral  of  Cartagena  placed  hand  upon 
his  saddle. 

"Behold  us!"  he  whispered.  "I— Beluche— 
and  this,  old  Dominique!  Dogs  of  old  days 
and  green  seas!  And  you — the  Captain 
Jean!" 

The  stranger  turned  his  horse  lightly.  "It 
may  be,"  he  mused,  "that,  after  the  heat  is 
done,  I  shall  take  the  air  upon  the  levee  by 
the  old  Fort  St.  Louis.  The  gentry  do  not 
promenade  just  there,  I  believe." 

Before  the  eyes  of  the  watching  burghers  at 
the  coffee-house  he  cantered  down  the  cobbles 
of  the  rue  Chartres.  The  fat  and  honest 
alderman  muttered;  and  then,  at  a  laugh  from 


IF  JEAN  WERE  HERE  27 

the  young  count,  he  turned  to  stare  fiercely  at 
him. 

"I  shall  take  the  air  upon  the  levee,  myself, 
sirs,"  smiled  Raoul.  "Ho,  Dominique!  Do 
not  fail  your  captain!" 


CHAPTER  II 
A  SHIP  FOR  A  PIRATE'S  EYE 

IT  WAS  dusk  when  Raoul  de  Almonaster 
sauntered  along  the  moldering  brick  parapet 
of  the  little  pentagonal  fort  that  marked  the 
upper  river  junction  of  the  dismantled  city 
wall  with  the  green-scummed  moat  built  to 
defend  the  landward  side.  The  children  were 
playing  upon  the  green,  peaceful  levee  where 
small,  shaggy  Creole  ponies  browsed.  Above 
the  fort  a  line  of  uncouth  flatboats  were 
moored  among  the  willows;  but  on  the  city 
side  one  caught  glimpses  of  brightly-gowned 
women  taking  the  air  along  this  fashionable 
promenade  in  front  of  the  Place  d'Armes.  But 
none  near  the  old  Fort  St.  Louis  ...  it  was 
too  close  to  the  turbulent  flatboat  men. 

But  along  the  inner  levee  face  De  Almon 
aster  presently  saw  what  he  had  come  to  see. 
Dominique,  the  honorable  councilor  of  the 
city,  and  the  resplendent  admiral  of  the  Re- 
28 


A  SHIP  FOR  A  PIRATE'S  EYE  29 

public  of  Cartagena,  even  now  fighting  for 
its  life  against  the  king  o'  Spain's  men  across 
the  Caribbean  Sea.  The  red-shirted  flatboat 
men  responded  to  Dominique's  greetings  30- 
yially. 

"A  worthy  politician's  role — playing  media 
tor  between  the  Kentuckies  with  their  brawls 
and  brothels  among  the  willows,  and  the 
Creoles  who  protest  against  their  encroach 
ments  upon  the  ancient  city  promenade." 
Raoul  smiled.  "Buccaneer  though  he  was,  he 
yet  may  be  mayor!" 

The  small  carronade  which  marked  the 
hour  of  retreat — eight  o'clock — barked  at  the 
city  hall.  At  once,  slaves  and  children,  sol 
diers  and  sailors,  must  be  off  the  streets  of 
the  Vieux  Carre.  The  lazy  boom  of  a  war 
ship  down  the  crescent  bend  of  the  Mississippi 
answered;  and,  following  the  sound  idly,  the 
count's  eye  noted,  before  the  Plaza,  a  long, 
black,  rakish  clipper  with  shining  yellow 
masts,  new  sails  glistening  as  they  hung  to 
dry,  and  untenanted  decks,  sweet  and  clean  as 
a  ballroom  floor. 

"A  beauty,  that  Seraphim !"  he  mused. 
"The  latest  Yankee,  out  from  Boston,  can  not 


30  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

match  her.  Ho,  Beluche!  She  must  make 
old  blood  stir  in  you  two  adventurers!  Aye, 
turn  your  envious  eyes  aside !" 

He  started  at  a  step  on  the  levee.  The 
gamester  of  the  Bourse  de  la  Maspero  had 
come  along  the  dismantled  rampart  of  the 
fort.  Sazarac  bowed  with  a  recognizing 
smile.  The  bronzed  cheeks  looked  even  dark 
er  below  the  whited  wig;  his  eyes  had  the 
level,  thoughtful  humor  of  the  man  who 
laughs  behind  unreadable  reserve. 

"You  may  well  say,  Monsieur  de  Almon- 
aster.  I  have  not  seen  in  years  a  hull  so 
cleanly  lined." 

De  Almonaster  glanced  at  the  hand  upon 
the  silver  swrord  hilt.  The  two  rotund  re 
spectables  had  seen  the  tall  man  in  buff  and 
broadcloth,  and  were  hastening.  "I  see,  Mon 
sieur,"  retorted  he,  "that,  despite  your  services 
with  the  American  explorations  in  the  West, 
you  know  a  ship?" 

"I  have  seen  the  sea,  Monsieur."  Sazarac 
bowed  with  a  searching  glance  at  the  younger 
man.  "And  you — an  eye  for  a  ship  is  an  eye 
for  a  woman.  ...  I  did  not  expect  to  meet 
the  Count  de  Almonaster  so  far  from  the 
fashionable  promenade?" 


A  SHIP  FOR  A  PIRATE'S  EYE  31 

"Nor  I  to  find  Captain  Lafitte  so  near  again 
to  the  Place  d'Armes!" 

Sazarac  studied  him  gravely:  "Your  par 
don,  sir!  I  think — " 

Raoul  snapped  his  fingers  laughingly  at  old 
Dominique  puffing  up  the  levee.  Admiral 
Beluche  had  drawn  a  cutlass  in  fervent  salute 
to  his  captain. 

"Come — come,  gentlemen !"  Sazarac's 
voice  raised  sharply. 

"Thou — Jean!"  whispered  Dominique  in 
the  Acadian  patois  of  the  coast. 

"Lafitte  of  Barataria.  Come,  you — sir! 
Did  you  think  you  could  tread  these  streets 
and  not  be  recognized?"  murmured  De 
Almonaster. 

The  two  old  adventurers  crowded  around 
the  stranger.  "Now,  I  am  a  man  again," 
chuckled  Dominique.  "And  not  a  clerk  drool 
ing  over  city  affairs!"  And  suddenly,  with 
an  affectionate  gesture,  he  lifted  slightly  the 
whited  peruke  above  Sazarac's  ear.  Raven 
black  the  hair,  tinged  with  gray.  "The  beard 
shaven,"  droned  on  old  Dominique.  "The 
cutlass  scar  concealed  which  you  got  from  the 
Spaniard  at  Trinidad!  And  these  arms 
caught  you  as  you  fell!" 


32  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"And  this  cut  the  fellow  down!"  cried 
Beluche.  "Jean,  cease  this  fooling!" 

The  Captain  Sazarac  was  laughing  in  turn. 
His  old  lieutenants  seized  his  hands,  stroked 
his  sleeve,  crying  out  brokenly.  And  then  De 
Almonaster,  forgotten  by  them  all,  raised  a 
warning  hand.  The  city  lantern  man  was 
climbing  the  post  by  the  fort  corner;  across 
one  of  the  innumerable  little  wooden  bridges 
spanning  the  moat  to  the  shanty  collection 
which  marked  the  American  Quarter  came  a 
watchman  of  the  levee  warehouses.  Sazarac 
glanced  keenly  at  young  Almonaster. 

"No  fear,"  mumbled  the  alderman.  "I  have 
heard  this  young  gallant  say  but  yesterday 
that  he  would  draw  sword  in  any  affair  if 
Lafitte  was  to  command!" 

"Aye,  for  the  emperor!"  growled  Beluche. 
"The  clipper,  Jean !  Did  you  ever  see  a  finer? 
Monsieur  Girod  brought  her  from  Charleston 
new  from  the  ways !  The  finest  teak — lacquer 
tables,  tapestries  smuggled  from  Bilboa!  All 
for  the  fallen  emperor!  Perhaps  you  have 
heard,  my  Captain?" 

"We  were  saying  who  so  worthy  to  com 
mand  as  Captain  Lafitte?"  fumed  old  Dom- 


A  SHIP  FOR  A  PIRATE'S  EYE  33 

inique,  eager  as  a  boy,  "did  we  not,  young 
sir?" 

Sazarac  smiled.  Raoul  interposed:  "The 
plot!  Ah,  yes  ...  the  plot!" 

"They  have  built  a  mansion  for  him  in  the 
rue  Chartres — "  protested  Dominique.  "Fi 
nanced  the  ship — not  a  first  family  in  all 
Louisiana  that  will  not  have  at  least  a  mid 
shipman  aboard!  But  old  Bossiere  to  com 
mand — bah !  I  would  balk  at  it  if  I  had  a  skin 
to  risk!" 

"You  might  well  with  the  English  ring  of 
ships  around  St.  Helena,"  said  Sazarac  grave 
ly.  "Well,  I  am  Lafitte.  I  am  at  your  mercy, 
Monsieur!" 

The  restless  eyes  of  Beluche  were  upon  a 
trio  of  officers  from  the  American  garrison 
who  came  slowly  along  the  promenade.  "Too 
much  talk !"  he  muttered.  "Since  that  old  af 
fair  of  yours,  Jean — the  seizure  of  Galveston 
Island,  despite  the  president's  pardon,  you 
have  long  been  proscribed.  As  to  this  em 
peror — the  devil  with  him!  The  Seraphine — 
look  at  her  now !  Is  she  a  toy  for  the  dandies 
of  this  town  to  play  with?  A  ship — Jean,  and 
a  good  ship?" 


34  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

"Eh?"  put  in  Alderman  Dominique :  "Rob 
ber,  what's  in  your  mind?" 

"The  American  officers — "  retorted  the  ad 
miral.  "Let  us  be  on." 

"The  Yankees — "  murmured  Sazarac, 
throwing  his  silken  neck  scarf  higher  as  the 
meeting  groups  saluted  courteously.  "When 
will  Louisiana  be  done  with  this  idea  that  she 
is  a  principality  aloof  from  the  Washington 
government?  The  Yankees,  gentlemen,  are 
here  taking  your  little  Paris." 

"They  might  better  have  left  their  manners 
in  the  Kentucky  woods,"  said  De  Almonaster. 
"And  cease  meddling  in  the  affairs  of  Spain 
across  the  Sabine.  You,  yourself,  sir — what 
is  the  feeling  in  the  West?" 

Sazarac  stopped  to  look  over  the  darkening 
river.  "It  is  a  far  road  to  Washington.  In 
the  Ohios  there  is  gossip.  A  new  republic  to 
be  carved  from  the  wilderness,  the  Spanish 
provinces  to  be  seized;  and  among  the  dis 
contented  spirits  are  the  exiled  Tories  from 
the  Canadas  and  the  agents  of  His  British 
Majesty  ever  wratching  with  jealous  eyes.  You 
sawr,  sir,  the  affair  of  yesterday  at  Maspero's?" 

"Colonel  Carr,  who  came  with  you  down- 


A  SHIP  FOR  A  PIRATE'S  EYE  35 

river?  I  can  not  make  his  mission  out  as  I 
might  wish." 

"Nor  I.  Now  and  then,  on  the  packet,  he 
boasted  of  curious  things.  I  recall,  one  night, 
a  lady  warned  him  to  silence!" 

"The  lady?"  De  Almonaster  smiled.  "I 
have  not  seen  her,  but  there  was  a  buzz  when 
she  appeared  among  us.  Of  an  illustrious 
Tory  family,  we  are  told,  that  fled  from  New 
York  to  Canada  after  the  old  revolution.  You 
should  know,  sir!" 

"There  were  two  women — "  said  Sazarac 
slowly.  "The  man  took  care  I  was  not  intro 
duced.  I  think  he  assured  them  I  was  a  com 
mon  gambler.  That,  sir,  is  why  I  took  his 
measure  at  the  cards — that  he  put  his  women 
to  despise  me.  I  am  sorry  that  he  forced  his 
game  upon  me  to  his  own  ruin." 

"The  slave  girl!"  chuckled  Dominique. 
"They  say  his  lady's  maid.  I  warrant  she 
berated  the  colonel  over  his  losing  the  servant 
to  you!" 

"A  woman  on  a  card — "  rumbled  Beluche. 
"It  made  me  think  of  old  days  at  Grand  Terre 
• — women  against  gold  .  .  .  and  the  traffic 
and  the  rum — e-oh!" 


36  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

The  stranger  was  watching  young  De  Al- 
monaster  sharply.  "You  are  curiously  con 
strained,  sir?" 

"It  is  nothing — "  Raoul  laughed  shortly. 

"Tell  me  what  was  on  your  lips  the  moment 
before!" 

"Oh,  nothing!  The  coffee-houses  must  have 
their  scandal!" 

"What  then,  sir?  I  have  sensed  some  jest 
among  the  tavern  drinkers?" 

The  count  shrugged.  The  two  old  bucca 
neers  stirred  uneasily.  They  had  heard  that 
tone,  the  tigerish  awakening  of  the  master, 
in  days  of  blood  and  splintering  decks. 

"Monsieur,"  went  on  Sazarac,  as  if  coming 
from  a  mood  he  wished  to  put  away,  "my 
game  was  fair.  As  for  this  wench,  I  did  not 
want  her.  Nor  shall  I  claim  her  now.  The 
colonel's  lady  need  not  fear  for  her  yellow 
maid." 

"In  very  truth — "  blurted  De  Almon aster. 
"That  is  why  they  laugh !  If  the  gossip  is  true, 
Carr's  act  was  that  of  a  poltroon!" 

"What  is  the  gossip  ?  That  I  dare  not  claim 
this  wager?" 

He  was  upon  the  young  man  now,  his  lu- 


A  SHIP  FOR  A  PIRATE'S  EYE  37 

minous  eyes  narrowing  fiercely,  the  line  deep 
ening  upon  his  lean  bronzed  cheeks.  Raoul 
tried  to  evade  him.  "Come!  They  laugh — at 
what?" 

"The  tale,  sir,  runs  about  the  coffee-houses 
— but  I  do  not,  for  a  moment,  credit  it — 
that,  on  the  river  trip,  Colonel  Carr  noticed 
that  your  eye  was  taken  by  his  wife's  com 
panion.  The  latest  beauty  of  our  Esplanade ! 
And — the  story,  sir,  is  that — as  a  jest  he 
wagered  her  against  your  gold,  knowing 
well—" 

The  young  man  broke  off  as  if  ashamed  to 
voice  the  rest. 

"Go  on!"  thundered  Sazarac.  "You  shall 
prove  the  word !  I  win  at  a  toss  an  unknown 
chattel!  The  jest  is  that  I  dare  not  claim  the 
lady's  maid!" 

"That  is  not  the  point,  Monsieur.  The  lady 
had  no  maid.  The  girl  in  Carr's  mind  was 
the  one  who  took  your  eye  upon  the  packet. 
Free,  white — equal  to  his  wife  in  station — " 

He  was  silenced  by  the  tense  breathing  of 
the  older  man.  Then  Sazarac  stood  quietly 
back.  The  two  buccaneers  were  silent  at  his 
mood. 


38  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"Carr  would  roar  with  laughter  if  you  so 
much  as  mentioned  the  debt.  Of  course  he 
did  not  dream  it  would  come  to  the  lady's  ears 
— that  would  be  infamy  beyond  conception. 
An  evil  jest  of  a  drunken  fool.  But,  doubt 
less,"  added  Raoul  apologetically,  "there  is  no 
truth  to  the  gossip." 

The  captain  was  gazing  at  the  stars  above 
the  river.  Old  Dominique  rubbed  his  velvet 
waistcoat.  Beluche  fingered  his  sword  of 
Cartagena. 

Sazarac  at  length  spoke  absently:  "About 
the  wine-shops  they  spread  the  jest?" 

"Ah,"  murmured  De  Almonaster,  "if  the 
story  is  true !" 

"The  scoundrel  deserves  not  a  challenge, 
but  a  lashing  from  here  to  the  German  Coast 
levee,"  grunted  Dominique;  "but  no,  it  is  im 
possible.  Go  claim  your  black-faced  wench, 
my  Captain.  The  colonel's  wife  may  give  you 
a  tongue-lashing,  but  think  how  she  will 
scotch  him!" 

"The  wench  can  lacky  around  the  emperor's 
suite  when  we  sail — "  grinned  Beluche  sourly, 
"For  I  am  of  a  mind  that  Jean  is  to  com 
mand!" 


A  SHIP  FOR  A  PIRATE'S  EYE  39 

"What  nonsense,  old  dog!  I — in  such  mad 
ness  !"  The  captain  stared  past  the  schooner's 
ghostly  sails  against  the  stars  .  .  .  the  Count 
de  Almonaster  alone,  seemed  to  guess  his 
thoughts  and  he  was  silent. 

"The  Seraphine — "  growled  Beluche  again. 
"A  prettier  sight  for  a  seaman's  eyes  never  the 
sun  shone  on!  Fast — unknown  in  all  the 
ports,  gunned  to  battle  the  best  of  them !  Ho, 
Dominique! — think  of  her  slipped  free  on 
the  heels  of  the  traffic!  Name  o'  God — the 
fat  house-cat  ships  afloat  these  days  when 
the  last  black  flag  has  vanished!" 

"Ah,  me!"  sighed  the  honest  councilor.  "It 
was  but  last  October  that  we  hanged  three 
buccaneers  in  the  Plaza — taken  off  the 
Belize.  I  went  to  the  country  the  day  that  the 
three  good  lads  danced  on  air.  It  was  sad — 
I  drooled  three  hours  over  my  luncheon.  Old 
days  are  not  so  far  .  .  .  why,  but  fifteen 
years  agone  we  were  at  the  Red  House  on 
Grand  Terre!  But  fifteen — and  none  durst 
lay  a  ship  in  past  the  guns  of  our  fort,  or 
claim  customs  on  a  bale  of  silks  we  offered 
the  city!  Ah,  me — and  I  am  fat — an  honest 
alderman !" 


40  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

The  two  old  fellows  turned  to  the  lost  lead 
er.  The  admiral  of  Cartagena  plucked  his 
sleeve.  "A  ship — and  you  can  not  linger 
forever,  disguised,  in  this  dull  town  .  .  .  and 
I  have  letters  of  marque  from  Colombia  as 
well!" 

Sazarac  was  not  listening.  Now  he  turned 
to  De  Almonaster  as  the  one  who  delicately 
read  his  thoughts. 

"You  will  challenge,  of  course — for  the 
lady's  sake — "  said  Raoul. 

"To-night,  I  shall  claim  my  wager  from 
Colonel  Carr,"  answered  Sazarac  quietly. 
"Bond  girl  or  free,  I  will  go  knock  at  the  gates 
of  hell  for  her — and  we  shall  see  who,  of  the 
town,  laughs  loudest!" 

"I  recall  you  won  on  the  ace  of  hearts," 
sighed  Dominique.  "Sazarac  wins  the  lady 
of  the  jesting.  But  Sazarac!  .  .  .  Nom  de 
Diea!  What  shall  they  say  Jean  Lafitte  had 
to  do  with  Sazarac's  winning?  The  American 
governor  would  build  another  scaffold  in  the 
Place  d'Armes!" 

"Out  of  all  the  deep  swamp  from  Spanish 
Gap  to  the  Teche  you  would  see  old  cutthroats 
pouring  to  wreck  it  about  his  ears — "  grunted 


A  SHIP  FOR  A  PIRATE'S  EYE  41 

Beluche.  "Black  or  white,  let  him  seize  his 
winning!  Ho,  this  Sazarac!  A  good  ship,  and 
Sazarac!  The  wide  sea,  and  Sazarac!  Dom 
inique — ho,  robber — listen !" 

"Be  still!"  muttered  the  alderman.  "See 
that  policeman  by  the  city  lamp?  Tut,  tut— 
this  will  not  do— this  howling!" 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  WAGER  IS  CLAIMED 

THE  shimmer  of  a  young  moon  lay  in  the 
wide  stone  arch  of  the  Hotel  Orleans  on  the 
rue  Ghartres  when,  with  the  abrupt  stride  and 
bearing  of  a  soldier,  Captain  Caspar  Sazarac, 
late  of  the  American  Explorations,  turned 
within  it.  The  monotonous  cry  of  the  city 
guard  calling  the  hour  and  the  state  of  the 
weather,  for  the  old  Spanish  custom  was  still 
extant,  came  to  his  ears.  The  guard  himself, 
under  his  cocked  hat,  formidable  in  his  blue 
frock-coat  with  broad  breast-straps  of  black 
leather,  had  lifted  his  short  sword  respect 
fully  as  the  stranger  passed  the  portals.  It 
was  late;  the  stone-paved  court,  the  winding 
staircase,  lit  by  wax  myrtle  candles,  leading 
to  the  galleried  rooms,  all  were  in  shadow.  A 
little  stream  of  water,  led  into  the  city  by 
cypress  log  conduits,  flowed  past  the  porter's 
bench.  The  old  concierge  arose  to  greet  the 
cloaked  figure. 

42 


THE  WAGER  IS  CLAIMED          43 

"Fellow,  you  will  say  to  the  British  officer, 
Colonel  Carr,  that  Captain  Sazarac  is  at  his 
pleasure." 

"Out,  M'sieu!" 

The  old  free  man  of  color  hobbled  up  the 
dim  stairs.  The  moonlight  bathed  the  middle 
of  the  court  where  was  a  formal  group  of 
pomegranates,  dwarf  figs  and  palms,  near 
which  stood  the  huge,  yellow  Spanish  jar 
w7hich,  each  day,  the  city  carriers  filled  with 
the  drinking  water.  The  visitor  stood  in  the 
shadows  absorbed  in  the  peace  of  this  quiet 
spot.  The  rooms  above,  facing  the  court  from 
the  galleries,  showed  hardly  a  light.  From 
the  slaves'  quarters  in  the  rear  came  a  soft 
murmur  of  voices  not  unpleasing. 

But  as  Sazarac  waited,  with  the  odor  of  the 
jasmined  walls  and  pillars  coming  to  his  nos 
trils,  he  was  conscious  that  some  one  had 
stirred  across  the  parterre.  The  figure  of  a 
woman  had  stepped  from  the  shade  to  glance 
up  at  the  old  black  shambling  along  the  third 
upper  gallery,  his  ring  of  rusty  keys  creaking 
at  his  belt. 

"Que  e  la?" 

The  white-gowned  figure  started,  turning  to 


44  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

glance  out  the  arched  entrance.  The  stranger 
bowed,  lifting  his  hat.  He  could  see  her  figure 
grow  rigid  in  the  moonlight,  her  stare  became 
a  thing  to  turn  an  intruder  to  stone.  At  once 
he  knew  her — and  she  him.  Sazarac,  the  un 
attached  and  unintroduced  gambler  of  the 
packet,  Marie  Louise.  The  stranger  heard  her 
quick  indrawing  of  breath  as  she  looked 
away,  toying  with  her  ivory  fan.  The  silence 
became  intolerable.  The  shuffle  of  the 
concierge's  bare  feet  died  away. 

"Your  pardon,  Mademoiselle,  for  the  intru 
sion.  It  was  by  appointment  that  I  came — 
indefinite,  it  is  true,  but  at  Colonel  Carr's 
request.  You  are — pardon  me — of  his  fam 
ily?" 

"I  am  Miss  Lestron — the  ward  of  Colonel 
Carr  of  Quebec." 

He  bowed  again.  He  had  feared  ...  on 
the  packet  he  had  mordantly  not  taken  the 
trouble  to  ascertain  which  was  the  wife  of  the 
English  officer.  But  now,  there  came  some 
surge  of  feeling  he  could  not  explain.  He  had 
been  stung  to  folly,  that  was  it — conscious  of 
no  other  desire,  to-night,  save  to  confront 
Carr,  fling  an  insult  at  him  that  no  man  might 


THE  WAGER  IS  CLAIMED          45 

endure;  challenge  and  kill  him  under  the 
oaks  of  the  Bayou  St.  John  road.  And  now 
he  was  gazing  on  the  fairest  face  that  all  his 
adventuring  life  had  shown  him.  Perfect  in 
the  moonlight,  the  dark  eyes  cold,  scornful; 
the  shrug  of  her  white  shoulders  above  the 
lace  corsage — apparently  Miss  Lestron  had 
been  going  to  the  opera  of  the  Theater  d'Or- 
leans  where,  he  recalled,  Rose  De  Vries  ap 
peared  to-night  in  Le  Prophete.  But  the 
hour  was  late  for  this. 

"I  tfiink,  sir — you  can  not  see  him.  It  hap 
pens — "  She  glanced  up  warily  at  the  silent 
galleries  where  the  concierge  was  mumbling 
away  ineffectually  on  his  return.  "Colonel 
Carr  will  not  receive  any  one  to-night." 

She  turned  half  from  him  with  an  air  of 
dismissal.  The  stranger  bowed  once  more. 
His  heart  was  beating  with  a  curious  relief. 
It  was  plain  that  the  girl  did  not  know  of  the 
infamous  jest  with  which  all  the  coffee-houses 
were  ringing.  He  knew  now  he  would  pocket 
the  insult;  a  duel  was  impossible,  for  it  would 
drag  her  name  deeper  into  the  mire.  Carr 
had  guessed  aright;  Sazarac  could  not  claim 
his  wager.  In  a  private  drinking  bout  Carr 


46  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

might  roar  with  laughter  at  the  gambler's 
dilemma;  but,  for  the  lady's  sake,  Sazarac 
would  not  challenge;  nor  would  he  permit 
talk  of  the  affair  to  go  about. 

He  drew  his  light  cloak  closer  as  he  turned 
to  go.  The  girl  was  lost  in  the  pomegranate 
shade;  the  square  galleried  court  of  the  pen 
sion  was  still,  the  heavy  shuttered  apartments 
emptied;  for  every  fashionable  had  gone  long 
since  to  the  new  opera  ambitiously  opened — 
late  as  the  season  was — on  the  rue  Orleans  in 
the  Doric  Hall  next  door  to  John  Davis'  and 
Monsieur  Boudousquie's  gaming-house.  But 
as  he  reached  the  areaway  with  its  drowsy 
tinkle  of  flowing  water,  he  started  at  a  cry 
that  rang  wildly  through  the  courtyard,  the 
scream  of  a  negro,  and  a  vengeful  shout 
above. 

Turning,  he  saw  the  girl  in  the  court  staring 
upward.  Then  her  arms  were  flung  out  in 
appeal.  And  again  that  choked  cry  of  a 
woman,  but  not  in  fear — imperious,  deter 
mined  : 

"Have  done  beating  the  girl!  What? — and 
you  strike  me!" 

Leaping  back  to  stare  up,  the  visitor  saw  a 


THE  WAGER  IS  CLAIMED          47 

woman  crushed  out  over  the  iron  lattice  rail. 
The  moonlight  struck  the  epauletted  shoulder 
of  Colonel  Carr,  who  seemed  bent  on  hurling 
her  to  the  courtyard.  The  girl  below  cried 
out  again  hotly.  And  with  a  mutter  Sazarac 
sprang  past  her,  up  the  curving  staircase  until 
he  gained  the  third  gallery. 

The  wife  of  the  British  colonel  was  choked 
and  helpless  against  the  railing  as  the  stranger 
reached  them.  His  hand  was  upon  his  sword, 
but  with  the  other  powerful  arm  he  caught  the 
man  squarely  by  the  collar,  tore  him  away, 
flung  him  headlong  against  the  wall — and 
then  stood  quietly,  the  gilded  insignia  of  His 
Majesty's  Service  in  his  hand.  Glancing  at 
the  epaulette  he  hurled  it  to  the  court  below. 
Miss  Lestron  had  followed  past  the  cowering 
serving-girl  bleeding  on  the  staircase. 

"Madame — "  she  cried  sharply,  "are  you 
hurt?" 

"But  for  this  gentleman,  I  had  died,"  the 
wife  gasped,  and  then  checked  it  with  new 
scorn.  Madame  Carr  stopped  abruptly,  her 
eyes  upon  the  unknown  gambler  of  the  river 
packet. 

"This,"  began  the  girl  quietly,  "is  Captain 


48  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

Sazarac  of  the  American  Service.  We — must 
thank  you,  sir,  even  for  this  regrettable  aid. 
You  perceive  the  affair,  without  doubt — a 
private  matter,  of  which  we  entreat — as  you 
are  a — gentleman — " 

She  had  hesitated,  her  dark  eyes  on  him, 
her  lip  quivering  in  the  moonlight.  A  shuffle 
on  the  gallery  floor;  the  drunken  man  was 
getting  unsteadily  to  his  feet.  He  reeled, 
grasped  the  railing,  cleared  his  dazed  eyes, 
and  stared. 

"Sazarac — bah!  Come  then,  Sazarac,  the 
gambler!  Eh — "  he  lurched  forward,  and 
held  himself  up.  "Ho,  the  porter! — have  this 
fellow  thrown  out  who  dares  invade  my 
privacy !" 

"Lionel !"  The  wife  muttered,  and  then  was 
still. 

Monsieur  Sazarac  bowed  to  her  quietly. 

"What  I  have  done,  Madame — I  am  answer 
able  for.  The  matter  explains  itself,  doubt 
less.  It  shall  not  pass  my  lips." 

"Sazarac — ruined  me,"  panted  the  colonel. 
"A  trickster  fellow — a  sharper  of  the  packet 
trade — eh,  get  you  within  your  rooms, 
Madame !" 


THE  WAGER  IS  CLAIMED          49 

"You  precede  me,  sir,"  she  retorted  stead 
ily,  "you  are  in  no  condition  to  converse." 

"Converse?  Eh — Sazarac,  here?  I  remem 
ber — "  he  lurched  to  the  rail  with  hoarse 
laughter.  "An  appointment,  eh — Captain 
Sazarac?" 

"The  matter  is  settled,"  commented  the 
other  quietly.  "You  will  permit  me  to  de 
part." 

He  was  passing  when  the  disheveled  officer 
staggered  to  the  narrow  space  between  rail 
and  wall.  "He  has  come,  my — dear,  to — ha, 
ha! — perchance,  to  claim  his  wager!" 

"Sir,  you  will  permit  me  to  pass." 

"Not  so  soon,  sir — Captain  Sazarac — who 
ever  you  are.  Ha-ha — it  was  a  stroke — a 
coup — you  will  admit  that,  even  if  I  lost,  eh?" 

Red-faced,  leering,  he  stumbled  nearer, 
laughing  loudly. 

"  Ton  word,  fellow,  you  had  the  effrontery 
to  show  up,  then?" 

Something  in  the  cold  eyes  of  the  taller 
man  stung  through  to  his  drunken  brain.  "I 
will  not  fight  you,  eh?  Is  that  what  you  are 
thinking?  Of  course  not — of  course  not,  Cap 
tain  Sazarac!  I — of  His  Majesty's  Service, 


50  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

and  you — not  a  gentleman  in  the  city  could 
vouch  for  you!" 

"Colonel  Carr,"  put  in  the  girl  steadily, 
"will  you  cease?"  She  stepped  nearer:  "The 
gentleman  but  wishes  to  depart.  The  house 
will  be  aroused,  the  servants  are  gabbling 
now!" 

"You  will  excuse  him,  sir."  Madame  Carr 
turned  to  the  stranger;  and  even  in  her  dis 
array,  he  saw  that  she  wras  matronly  beauti 
ful,  but  hollowT-eyed  as  one  torn  by  ceaseless 
anxiety:  "He  does  not  know  of  what  he 
speaks." 

"I  can  speak  that,  Madame,  that  would  put 
all  Louisiana  in  an  uproar.  Langhorne,  the 
consul,  will  open  his  eyes  when — when — " 

With  a  sudden  furious  movement  Mrs.  Carr 
closed  his  mouth.  He  threw  her  off  violently. 
"Cease  this,  Madame!  I  am  not  a  child,  or 
fool!  Already  about  this  crack-brained  city 
the  clouds  are  gathering!  From  the  Sabine 
country  the  Spaniards — " 

"Be  still!"  She  checked  him  with  rising 
fury.  In  the  moonlight  her  eyes  held  the  glit 
ter  of  a  tigress.  But  the  officer's  drunken 
madness  became  uncontrollable. 


THE  WAGER  IS  CLAIMED          51 

"To  your  rooms,  you  women !  Both  of  you ! 
As  for  this  man — "  he  turned  again,  staring 
abruptly  at  the  tall  cloaked  figure;  for  the 
time,  he  had  forgotten  him:  "Bah!  He  is 
here  because — " 

"We  know,"  put  in  the  elder  woman  coldly, 
"he  has  ruined  you  at  the  cards — everything. 
The  consul  has  informed  me  of  this  humilia 
tion  beyond  words." 

Garr  was  laughing  evilly  again.  "Eh,  well ! 
The  pot-house  gallants  saw  it  all.  Oh,  ho! — 
there  were  wagers  that  Captain  Sazarac 
would  not  even  dare  lift  his  face  again  at  the 
gaming-houses.  He  \vould  find  pretexts,  he 
would  invent  reasons — indeed  it  was  a  shabby 
trick  to  put  upon — even  a  packet  gambler!" 

There  was  a  silence.  Madame  Carr  was 
staring  at  the  stranger. 

"What  is  this,  sir?  I  heard  of  some  silly 
story  of  the  card-rooms — Madame  Des  Tre- 
han  would  not  explain,  but  there  was  com 
ment,  upon  the  promenade,  to-day.  Sir,  as 
my  husband  but  shouts,  laughing,  will  you 
enlighten  us?" 

Monsieur  Sazarac  stood  with  folded  arms. 
The  girl  in  white  was  watching  him  doubt- 


52  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

fully.  Suddenly  she  came  nearer.  There  was 
almost  pleading  in  her  softness. 

"Tell  me.  There  was  some  cruel  jest  put 
upon  you,  sir?" 

The  stranger  would  not  answer.  Carr 
laughed  hoarsely,  lurching  against  the  rail. 

"The  jest  is  this,  ladies!  Upon  the  packet 
trip,  this  man  was  all  eyes  for  one  of  you. 
Chagrined  that  I  would  not  introduce  him,  he 
was  bent  upon  breaking  me  at  the  cards.  He 
had  the  luck  of  a  cold  devil  even  to  the  last 
throw  at  Maspero's.  Eh,  well,  it  was  but  a 
jest!  The  town  chuckles  over  it.  I  wagered 
him — against  his  winnings  of  the  packet,  a 
bond  girl  of  our  household.  He  took  it  greed 
ily—ha-ha!" 

"Sir,  we  traveled  with  no  servant  save  the 
public  help,"  the  wife  put  in. 

"That  is  true,"  Carr  straightened  up  with 
drunken  gravity.  "But  he  took  the  wager.  He 
thought,  evilly  enough,  there  was  a  wench  of 
San  Domingo — fair  as  one  of  you.  He  was 
imbecile  enough  to  yearn  for  her  glances!" 

"Your  word,  sir,  if  you  recall?"  said  Sazarac 
gravely. 

"A  jest!  Who  would  deem  it  but  a  card- 
room  jest!" 


THE  WAGER  IS  CLAIMED          53 

The  stranger  turned  as  if  to  escape  from  an 
unpleasing  situation.  But  the  elder  woman 
suddenly  came  between  them.  "But  what  is 
this  curious  thing  they  whisper  of  along  the 
promenade?  I  caught  a  laugh,  a  pitying 
look!" 

She  swept  scornfully  upon  her  husband. 
"Did  you,  then,  cheat  at  the  cards?" 

Carr  roared  his  mirth :  "No — on  my  honor ! 
There  was  no  need !" 

"The  affair  is  done,"  murmured  the  strang 
er.  "Your  pardon,  Madame !" 

But  as  he  made  to  pass,  Carr  must  gibe  once 
more  at  him.  "Your  wager,  sir?  The  prize 
you  claim — which  was  it?" 

The  silence  grew  acute.  The  two  women 
stared  unbelievingly;  the  younger  turned 
widening  eyes  upon  the  silent  stranger. 

"He  told  you— that?" 

"Nothing,  Mademoiselle.  Allow  me  to  de 
part!" 

"He  meant  me!  A  girl  of  San  Domingo! 
Bandied  my  name  in  the  card-rooms — " 

"You  were  not  mentioned,  Mademoiselle.  I 
never  knew  your  name  before.  You  will 
allow  me  to  go,  Mademoiselle  Lestron.  It  is 
enough — " 


54  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"It  is  not  enough!  You  do  not  know  all, 
sir!"  She  turned  swiftly  to  the  drunken  col 
onel  and  struck  him  sharply  in  the  face.  "You 
dared  this!  You  infamous  coward!  I — a 
slave  of  San  Domingo — " 

Carr  stood  in  an  abject  sobering.  "Louise, 
this  is  folly!" 

"I  shall  speak!     Whom  could  you  mean?" 

"Eh?  A  jest!  I  said,  a  jest — not  meant  for 
any  one's  ears  but  his  and  mine !  He  had  the 
impudence  to  come  here — to  claim — some 
thing — "  Carr  settled  back  on  the  rail  uncer 
tainly. 

"Something?"  Miss  Lestron  turned  icily  to 
Sazarac.  "Sir,  and  what?" 

"I  do  not  know.  I  had  no  thought  save  to 
seek  Colonel  Carr  and  demand  satisfaction. 
The  affair  could  have  been  arranged  at  the 
Oaks  with  no  breath  of  the  quarrel's  point. 
One  of  us  should  die  .  .  .  the  other's  lips 
sealed  in  honor.  Was  that  not  enough,  Mad 
emoiselle,  for  your  protection?" 

Sazarac,  the  river  gamester,  saw  a  curious 
light  in  her  eyes.  Gratefulness,  scorn,  or  the 
brief  interest  in  this  idea  of  protecting  her,  he 
could  not  say  which,  for  she  turned  at  once 


THE  WAGER  IS  CLAIMED          55 

to  the  other  man.  Her  voice  flowed  on  stead 
ily  but  mounting  to  a  peak  of  implacable  con 
tempt. 

"On  the  turn  of  a  card,  sir?  You  played 
high — very  high  ...  an  empire,  perhaps, 
risked  in  a  Chartres  gambling-house !" 

"Will  you  be  still?"  blustered  Carr,  stagger 
ing  forth.  "A  jest — I  said  a  jest  on  him! 
Your  name  was  not  in  it!  I  said  a  slave  girl. 
Bah, — I  will  go  to  Langhorne  and  borrow  a 
wench  to  pay  my  debt,  if  that  is  the  issue !" 

"You  had  best  both  be  still,"  warned  the 
older  woman  frightenedly  now.  "Louise, 
come — this  is  no  matter  for  a  card-room 
brawl.  Sazarac — if  he  is  vouched  for  as  a 
gentleman  in  this  city,  must  challenge.  I  sup 
pose — ah,  God!  He  will  challenge — "  And, 
passing  them  with  high  head  but  tear-dimmed 
eyes,  Madame  Carr  went  to  her  chambers. 

"Bah,"  muttered  Carr  with  sudden  drunken 
sleepiness.  "Go  home,  Sazarac!  You,  to 
your  rooms,  Louise!  My  head  aches  with  all 
this  ranting!  It  was  a  jest.  On  Sazarac, 
because  of  his  taking  my  last  farthing — on 
Louise,  because  of  her  airs.  Enough,  it's 
done.  Sazarac  can  challenge  and  be  damned. 


56  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

He  can  send  a  second — if  he  knows  a  gentle 
man  in  the  city,  which  is  improbable — when  I 
am  sober.  My  affair  is  in  Langhorne's  hands. 
Now,  to  bed!" 

He  staggered  along  the  gallery.  But  sud 
denly,  with  a  shrug,  a  bow — a  face  serene  in 
the  moonlight — Captain  Sazarac  addressed 
him. 

"Sir,  I  am  minded  to  recall  my  words. 
Now,  I  shall  claim  my  wager!" 

"I  say — to  bed — "  mumbled  Carr  thickly. 
He  reeled  at  his  door,  waved  a  palsied  finger 
at  them  and  crashed  against  the  furniture 
within. 

Miss  Lestron  stood  at  the  balustrade  of  the 
winding  staircase  as  the  stranger  was  de 
scending.  A  step  below  he  turned: 

"I  claim  my  wager.  Let  them  have  a  care 
who  put  a  jest  upon  me  in  this  town!  The 
sea  is  near  .  .  .  and  it  is  wide.  Wide,  Mad 
emoiselle,  and  deep;  and  far — very  far,  is 
the  way  to  its  secret  places." 

"I  do  not  understand."  She  was  watching 
him  intently.  He  had  gone  to  the  next  turn  of 
the  staircase.  The  moonlight  struck  the  silver 
of  his  sword  hilt.  She  leaned  forth,  and  her 


THE  WAGER  IS  CLAIMED          57 

eyes  struck  fire  from  his  own  when  he 
glanced  up.  "Far?"  she  whispered:  "And  it 
may  be  beautiful !" 

He  watched  her  lips.  The  perfume  of  the 
jasmined  wall  seemed  to  rise  from  the  court 
and  engage  her;  she  seemed  afloat  in  a  purple 
sea  formed  by  the  shadows.  A  face,  a  form 
luminous  in  the  mists  of  his  dark  years  of 
remembrance.  The  soul  of  his  youth  was 
stirring  ...  he  had  dared  all,  lost  all,  on  de 
cisions  quick,  hot,  pregnant  as  this,  in  days 
long  put  behind. 

"I  love  you,"  he  said  quietly.  "You  will  re 
member  that." 

She  heard  his  boot  on  the  stones  of  the 
court.  He  was  passing  the  pomegranate 
clump  when  he  thought  something  flashed 
near  him  in  the  moonlight. 

A  white  thing,  a  light  thing — a  feather,  a 
petal  in  the  air.  But  he  saw  no  more,  nor 
heard  a  sound  from  above.  He  went  to  the 
untenanted  street,  wondering  if  she  had 
waited  until  his  footsteps  died  away.  He 
wondered  why  he  had  spoken;  and  then  he 
laughed.  Sazarac,  the  packet  gamester  .  .  . 
Jean  Lafitte,  last  of  the  sea-adventurers — 


58  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

ghost  of  a  vanished  time  back  to  tread  the 
streets  where  his  life  was  not  worth  the  flicker 
of  a  moonbeam  in  the  jasmine  screen  below 
her  window. 

After  he  had  gone,  something  did  stir.  A 
man  crawled  out  from  the  shadows  across 
the  area,  went  to  the  gardened  center  of  the 
court  arid  searched  under  the  fig  and  pome 
granate  leaves.  Presently  he  muttered  and 
straightened  up,  a  white  blossom  in  his  hand. 

"Eh?"  he  said.  "A  camellia  ...  it  has 
been  in  her  hair.  She  was  to  wear  it  to  the 
opera,  and  Garr's  orgy  to-night  prevented.  I 
would  have  seen  her  pass  ...  she  would 
have  thought  me  a  red-eyed  beggar  standing 
by  the  areaway,  but  I  would  have  seen  her 
pass." 

John  Jarvis  stared  up  at  the  silent  balcony. 
Then  he,  too,  went  his  way. 

"The  Cafe  la  Veau  Qui  Tele—"  he  grum 
bled.  "I  shall  put  on  my  old  waistcoat  again 
to  get  drunk  in.  Sazarac!  Damn  this  Saz- 
arac!  A  flower  from  her  hair,  and  the  fool 
did  not  see  it!  A  flower  for  Sazarac!" 

At  the  Cafe  la  Veau  he  entered  by  the  gar 
den  gate  and  went  to  sit  among  the  huge  wine 


THE  WAGER  IS  CLAIMED          59 

tuns  under  the  tiled  shed.  "Three  measures 
of  liquor  and  I  could  paint  a  white  camellia 
against  her  hair,"  he  mused:  "but  the  tap 
room  and  I  together  could  not  paint  love  in 
her  eye — for  me." 

After  that  he  sought  a  bench  and  slept. 
Presently  in  came  another  and  by  the  same 
stealthy  passageway.  A  huge  seaman,  this, 
with  broad  hairy  chest,  and  tattooed  arms. 
He  examined  the  sleeping  painter,  took  off  his 
coat  and  spread  it  above  him.  "He  must  be 
kept  drunken  and  asleep,"  muttered  Johan- 
ness.  "The  fool  would  shout  it  through  the 
town — the  Captain  Jean  returned,  and  meet 
ing  us  old  ghosts  up  from  the  islands !  Enter, 
Old  Slit-Nose !  None  here  save  John,  the  tap 
room  avocat.  A  howl  from  him  and  he  draws 
my  knife  point!  Sit  quiet  and  await.  Our 
host  gave  me  the  keys  and  is  abed  .  .  .  he 
prefers  not  to  know  wrhat  he  should  not  know, 
like  any  wise  man!" 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  OLD  SEA-ROVERS  AWAKEN 

AT  MIDNIGHT  Captain  Sazarac  turned  from 
the  rue  de  la  Levee  to  the  broad  pavement 
that  skirted  the  Place  d'Armes,  and,  for  a  mo 
ment,  contemplated  the  changes  which  even 
the  few  years  of  the  American  occupation  had 
wrought  in  the  Paris  of  the  New  World.  A 
painted  iron  palisade  with  ornate  grill  gates 
enclosed  the  square  before  the  cathedral 
which  he  had  known  as  a  dusty  parade- 
ground  over  which  lazily  flapped,  now  one, 
now  the  other — the  Royal  standard  of  Spain 
or  the  fleur-de-lis  of  France.  A  portion  of  the 
ancient  wooden  gallows  still  remained,  but 
about  it,  now,  the  children  played  of  morn 
ings,  listening  to  the  fearsome  tales  of  Bras 
Coupe,  the  terror  of  the  swamps  who  preyed 
on  human  flesh  and  was  proof  to  musket 
balls,  as  the  colored  nurses  had  it. 

In  the  narrow  way  between  the  cathedral 
60 


OLD  SEA-ROVERS  AWAKEN  61 

and  the  old  Spanish  calaboza  the  exile 
paused  again.  Documents  of  court  and  avo- 
cat  were  tacked  to  the  wooden  doors.  Not  so 
many  years  agone  had  not  he — Jean  Lafitte 
• — sent  his  men  up  from  the  pirates'  fortified 
refuge  on  Grand  Terre  Island  to  bribe  for  the 
escape  of  his  brother,  Pierre,  from  this  same 
prison?  And  time  and  again  had  they  not 
both  laughed  to  read,  on  these  same  boards, 
the  city's  proclamation  for  their  capture — 
the  law's  futile  fury  when  no  man  durst  lay 
hand  upon  them,  so  completely  did  the 
Grand  Terre  adventurers  awe  the  town? 

"How  many  changes!"  mused  the  way 
farer.  "Hailed  by  the  city  as  a  hero,  pardoned 
by  the  president  and  acclaimed  for  service  to 
the  new  republic — denounced  again  and  driv 
en  from  the  seas!  Yet  I  walked  these  streets 
when  no  merchant  was  too  proud  to  traffic 
for  the  goods  we  brought  from  the  gulf  priva 
teering.  And  again  the  good  sea  calls — again, 
again !" 

At  a  small  door  in  a  high  wall  of  the  rue 
St.  Peter,  he  tapped  with  his  sword  hilt.  It 
opened;  he  stood  within  the  small  garden  of 
the  Cafe  la  Veau  Qui  Tete.  A  dim  light 


62  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

showed  the  wine  tuns  i^  the  warehouse 
shadows. 

Old  Dominique,  the  worthy  alderman, 
lifted  a  huge  pewter  mug  in  greeting.  Half  a 
dozen  figures  arose  with  smothered  exclama 
tions.  They  were  about  him,  clasping  his 
hands,  whispering  joyously. 

"Thou — Captain  Jean!"  came  a  hoarse 
voice  in  the  old  patois  of  the  coast  islands. 
"Here  are  we  all — ghosts,  indeed,  out  of  old 
days!" 

"Johanness!  Old  brawler  of  the  ports!  I 
heard  they  had  hanged  you  for  the  loot  of 
the  Santa  off  Grand  Isle." 

The  huge  seaman  laughed  his  joy.  "And 
thou!  That  the  British  sank  thee  off  Galves- 
ton!  Hang  me?  Ah,  no! — the  president's 
pardon,  Jean!  I — shame  to  say — peddle 
ducks  and  deer  to  the  city  markets.  The  very 
children  point  me  out  and  put  their  fingers 
to  their  noses :  'Old  Tete  John,'  they  call  me 
— I,  who  sailed  with  thee !" 

"Better  for  you  all  than  swinging  at  yard- 
arms.  Here  is  the  worthy  alderman ;  Beluche, 
with  a  lawful  commission;  Nez  Coupe,  still  a 
fugitive  in  the  deep  swamp,  I  am  told.  And 
here,  Monsieur  de  Almonaster!" 


OLD  SEA-ROVERS  AWAKEN  63 

"Eh,  well — "  grunted  Johanness.  "Dom 
inique  brought  the  gentleman.  Damn  gen 
try,  say  I.  Dominique  fears  to  whistle  lest 
it  hurt  his  politics." 

"We  are,  indeed,  respectable,"  smiled  the 
captain.  "Only  last  year,  I  am  told,  my  broth 
er,  Pierre,  now  a  planter  of  St.  James,  was 
second  to  Monsieur  St.  Geme  in  a  duel — that 
is  getting  into  society  indeed,  gentlemen!" 

"Pouf !"  grunted  Dominique.  "Four  inches 
off  my  belly  and  I'd  be  at  sea  again.  Only 
to-day  I  argued  with  the  mayor,  Rouiffignac. 
that  the  city  was  better  off  when  it  fattened 
on  the  privateering.  Was  it  not  equal  rob 
bery  when  the  Americans  under  Commodore 
Patterson  looted  our  Grand  Terre  ware 
houses?" 

"We  should  have  fought  instead  of  scuttling 
out — "  grumbled  Johanness.  "The  Yankees 
could  not  have  taken  us  by  storm.  Glad  they 
were  later  to  have  our  fellows  aid  them.  Who 
did  General  Jackson  turn  to  but  Captain 
Jean's  skilled  artillerymen  when  the  British 
threatened  the  city?  Bah!  I  never  saw  such 
a  lame  lot  of  dogs  as  our  fellows  were  the  day 
the  pompous  governor  announced  we  were 
all  recommended  for  a  pardon!  We  stood 


64  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

dangling  our  cutlasses,  listening  to  lawyers' 
speeches  praising  us  for  saving  the  city,  when 
we  should  have  been  to  sea  again.  Captain 
Jean,  thou  wert  the  only  wise  one  of  the  band 
— departing  to  the  Texas  country  and  seizing 
Galveston  Island  against  the  Spaniards.  I 
could  curse  my  heart  that  I  did  not  enlist 
again  with  thee!" 

"I  intended  to  have  the  new  establishment 
legitimate  enough,"  murmured  Lafitte,  "but 
after  the  war  the  politicians  lost  no  chance  at 
Washington,  nor  with  the  Spanish  viceroy  at 
Vera  Cruz,  to  poison  all  minds  against  me. 
When  they  sacked  Galveston,  I  took  young 
Bowie  and  went  inland  to  the  Santa  Fe.  That 
was  my  history  since,  comrades.  I  came  back 
from  the  West,  drawn  by  I  know  not  what  to 
tread  these  streets  again." 

The  old  buccaneers  watched  his  calm  face 
in  the  moonlight.  He  had  taken  off  the  hat 
and  peruke;  a  bronzed  handsome  man  with 
dark  eyes  tinged  with  melancholy — such  was 
Lafitte,  whom  Byron  described  as: 

"Leaving  a  corsair's  name  to  other  times, 
Linked    with    one    virtue    and    a    thousand 
crimes." 


OLD  SEA-ROVERS  AWAKEN  65 

"Eh,  well,"  grunted  old  Dominique,  "Paken- 
ham  would  have  taken  the  city  in  the  rear  if 
you  had  accepted  the  bribes  the  British  of 
fered  you  at  Barataria.  And  in  turn  what 
have  the  Yankees  done  for  you,  Jean — scat 
tered  your  fortune  to  the  winds !" 

"Aye,  you  enriched  this  city,  and  you  stand 
a  fugitive  upon  its  streets!" 

The  captain  raised  his  hand  gravely:  "I — 
am  a  citizen  of  the  United  States,  gentlemen. 
Proscribed,  just  now,  it  is  true — but — it  might 
be  I  could  serve  again.  There  are  curious 
things  reported  in  the  Mexicoes.  Colonel 
Travis,  I  recall,  and  Crockett — and  young 
Bowie  were  hot  for  me  to  join  the  Texans  in  a 
new  republic.  And  in  Kentucky — " 

"Ah,  but,  my  Captain,"  growled  old  Johan- 
ness,  "what  hast  thou  to  do  with  their  miser 
able  politics  of  the  day?  The  sea  for  us! 
Damned  be  this  gabble  of  the  town!  Look 
you,  what  it  has  made  of  Dominique! — sit 
ting,  twiddling  his  thumbs  on  his  fat  belly! 
And  Beluche — taking  off  and  putting  on  his 
gilt  chapeau,  ticklishly,  as  if  fearing  to  get 
dust  on  his  gewgaws!" 

"Cease  your  spewing,"  growled  the  Carta- 


66  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

genian,  "I  sail  with  proper  commissions,  I 
would  have  you  know,  from  Colombia." 

"And  be  damned  with  your  papers !"  roared 
the  old  man.  "Admiral?  There  does  not  live 
one  for  me! — nor  councilors,  nor  nobility — 
young  sprigs  of  dandies  coming  to  pat  our 
hard  salted  fists !" 

He  glared  about,  his  gaze  lingering  on 
Count  de  Almonaster. 

"Old  man,"  said  Raoul  quietly,  "you  had 
better  keep  your  place." 

"Damnation !" 

The  old  sea  dog  was  starting  up;  Lafitte 
laughingly  laid  hands  upon  him. 

"Sit  down,  old  tar-ears!  I  shall  beg  pardon 
for  you.  I  know — I  know!  Old  days — old 
ways — it  is  hard  to  put  things  by."  He  put 
his  hand  affectionately  on  Johanness'  shoul 
der.  "Do  you  remember  the  time  I  sent  you 
with  the  eight-oared  barge  to  conduct  Mr. 
Grymes  back  to  the  citj'— after  the  feasting, 
roaring  week  at  Grand  Terre?" 

"Aye,"  interrupted  Beluche,  "the  famous  at 
torney  who  defended  you  and  Pierre  in  the 
first  indictment  they  issued  against  you  for 
piracy !" 


OLD  SEA-ROVERS  AWAKEN  67 

"And  you  sent  word,  Captain,  that  if  the 
lawyers  wished  their  fee,  they  must  come 
fetch  it  from  our  fort  at  Grand  Terre.  The 
city  wagered  that  Grymes  would  never  return 
alive,  but  do  you  recall  the  week  he  ven 
tured?  The  feasting,  dancing,  the  drinking 
until  the  skies  rocked,  all  in  our  guest's 
honor!" 

"Aye,  and  me — "  Johanness  beat  his  hairy 
chest :  "I,  the  bo'sun,  it  was,  to  whom  Captain 
Jean  entrusted  the  lawyer  on  the  return.  By 
the  river  wre  came,  eight  armed  fellows  pulling 
the  barge  and  roaring  chanties!  At  every 
plantation  wharf  we  stopped,  the  advocate 
breaking  bottles  of  the  finest  vintages  o'  Spain 
and  shouting  greetings.  And  on  the  deck, 
piled  in  the  sun,  forty  thousand  dollars  in 
gold  where  all  might  see  I  Every  gentleman's 
house  from  English  Turn  to  the  city  gate  must 
be  routed  out  that  Mr.  Grymes  could  gamble 
against  his  hosts,  so  that,  when  our  villains 
finally  haled  him  into  town,  not  a  dollar  did 
he  have  left  of  all  his  fee.  E-oh! — even  now 
they  talk  of  it!  Not  in  all  Louisiana  such 
princely  hospitality  as  the  famous  attorney 
found  in  the  house  of  Lafitte,  the  pirate !" 


68  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"Old  man,"  smiled  the  leader,  "I  never 
liked  that  word!" 

"I  know.  That  is  all  I  ever  held  against 
you,  Jean !  I  recall  the  day  you  shot  Gambio 
through  the  heart  for  boasting  of  a  bit  o'  blood 
he  let.  You  were  ever  a  bit  finicky  for  some 
o'  our  fo'cas'le  scum,  but  I  swear  they  loved 
you,  Jean!" 

The  adventurer  looked  at  the  grim  faces 
about  the  table.  The  silent  Beluche,  the  com 
placent  Dominique,  the  hairy  bo'sun;  and 
then  the  slender  elegance  of  the  Count  de  Al- 
monaster.  And  to  him  he  spoke  gravely. 

"You  are  hearing  much,  young  sir.  The 
city  sleeping,  and  these  old  comrades  creep 
ing  by  stealth  to  greet  me  here." 

"I've  heard  the  old  tales.  I've  dreamed — " 
he  laughed  slightly.  "These  are  dull  days. 
The  gallants  of  the  town  at  their  ecarte,  or 
projecting  some  gentlemen's  masquerade,  or 
dancing  attendance  at  the  opera.  They  boast 
of  making  a  little  Paris  of  New  Orleans;  but 
who,  Monsieur,  wishes  a  little  Paris  after 
knowing  the  big  one?" 

"Your  modesty,  sir,  is  refreshing,  after  these 
town  gallants  who  make  one  trip  to  the  Oaks, 


OLD  SEA-ROVERS  AWAKEN  69 

receive  a  rapier  tip  in  the  arm,  and  the  rest  of 
their  days  deem  themselves  bravos  who  have 
the  ladies  in  a  flutter." 

"I  have  been  twice  abroad,"  said  Raoul.  "I 
saw  a  bit  of  pistoling  in  the  Indies  during 
the  blacks'  revolt.  And  there,  among  a  ship 
load  of  refugees,  I  met  the  affair  that  sobered 
me — made  a  man  of  the  boy,  Monsieur!" 

"A  woman,"  smiled  Sazarac. 

"A  child.  I  fought  for  her  in  the  flames  of 
her  father's  house.  When  I  lay  wounded  they 
sent  her  away,  orphaned,  in  the  ship  cap 
tain's  charge."  He  laughed:  "That  is  all — 
a  trifle  of  adventuring  to  Jean  Laf itte !" 

"Bah !"  growled  Johanness,  putting  back  his 
long  gray  hair :  "Women !"  Then,  seeing  the 
figure  on  the  bench  that  had  snored  the  hour 
through,  he  forthwith  kicked  this  hard  couch 
from  under  it.  An  uncouth  disheveled  man 
struck  the  stones,  rolled  over  and  cursed  them 
all. 

"Jarvis!"  growled  the  bo'sun.  "He  has  seen 
more  than  you,  Monsieur  de  Almonaster,  and 
he  has  never  handled  a  pistol  in  his  life !" 

"Jarvis?"  Sazarac  started  back.  "You  did 
not  tell  me!" 


70  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

"He  is  utterly  drunk.  We  did  not  dare  tell 
him  in  a  public  place  because  of  his  clatter 
ing  tongue.  Ho,  Jarvis !  At  the  drink  again !" 

The  profligate  staggered  up,  rubbing  his 
eyes.  "Damnation!  Old  rumheads,  mulling 
away  of  Barataria  days!  I  heard  Johanness 
spouting  of  the  pot  of  gold,  the  barge  and  all 
that!  Of  Jean  again—"  He  broke  off  star 
ing:  "Do  I  dream — still  in  the  liquor!" 

"It  is  I,  Jarvis.    Come,  clear  your  eyes!" 

Jarvis  reeled  forth.  "Jean,  whom  I  painted 
at  the  famous  isle!  Jean!" 

"Not  so  loud,"  grunted  Dominique.  "I  hear 
the  watchman  whingwhanging  down  the 
street." 

"Jean!"  The  two  friends  were  greeting 
fondly.  "Jean!  I  knew  you  lived.  Jean  of 
the  Petrol — my  hand  upon  him!" 

"And  what  have  you  done  with  your  genius, 
lad?" 

"I  have  learned  to  rdrink,"  retorted  Jarvis, 
"drink  and  debt.  Into  jail  and  out  again.  Be 
times  I  belabor  Dominique  for  a  dollar.  He 
gives  it  with  fatherly  advice,  and  hales  me  to 
Pere  Antoine  for  reformation.  Between  the 
alderman  and  the  priest  I  am  utterly  lost." 


OLD  SEA-ROVERS  AWAKEN  71 

Dominique  whispered  to  the  leader:  "I 
have  a  mind  to  see  that  the  fellow  is  seized  by 
a  shipping  master  and  clapped  to  sea  in  irons 
— for  his  own  good." 

"A  pity,"  murmured  De  Almonaster.  "The 
best  families  would  befriend  him,  but  he  is 
oftener  in  the  gutter  than  elsewhere." 

"He  would  be  at  home  anywhere — "  Be- 
luche  watched  the  jester  who  had  wandered 
back  among  the  wine  tuns  searching  for  his 
pewter  mug:  "Do  you  recall  how  our  rough 
fellows  were  amazed  when  we  first  tumbled 
him  off  a  sacked  merchantman  down  among 
us,  and  at  once — with  our  pistols  at  his  head — 
he  began  to  bawl  for  drink?  As  I  lived,  there 
after,  on  the  Petral,  he  feared  nothing  save 
that  the  next  prize  might  have  more  gold  than 
liquor!" 

"He  did  us  all  honor,"  mused  Lafitte.  "Eh, 
the  old  faces  about  me !" 

Jarvis,  the  youngest  of  them  all,  save  Raoul, 
staggered  to  the  table.  "Piracy,"  he  lamented, 
"ruined  me!  I  was  treated  all  too  famously 
by  the  cutthroats.  But,  Jean — now,  if  we  had 
a  ship — eh,  well !  The  drink  this  way !" 

"Ah,  the  ship!    It  appears  we  have  forgot- 


72  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

ten  why  we  are  here !  The  ship  ?  We  have  a 
ship!" 

"A  ship?"  growled  a  new  voice.  Nez  Coupe, 
the  small  wiry  Canary  Islander,  with  a  face 
most  frightfully  disfigured  by  a  saber  cut, 
the  most  lawless  of  the  former  Grand  Terre 
privateers,  an  outlaw  still  unpardoned,  came 
to  the  table  lamp.  "What  talk !  Not  one  of  us 
all  could  purchase  a  yawl  boat!" 

Beluche  and  Dominique  fidgeted.  Beluche 
gestured  uneasily  to  the  fastidious  De  Almon- 
aster.  It  seemed  he  must  speak;  it  was  for 
that  they  had  fetched  him  to  the  council. 

"There  is  a  ship  appointed  for  a  purpose," 
began  the  count,  reservedly.  "The  Girod  ship, 
fitted  by  the  citizenry — for  a  certain  pur 
pose — " 

"Bah!  That  Napoleon  folly!"  growled 
Johanness:  "Child's  play!  Ah,  but  a  ship  for 
your  eye,  my  Captain !" 

The  grim  grizzled  faces  looked  from  the 
captain  to  the  youngest  man. 

"It  is  difficult  to  announce,"  continued 
Raoul.  "But  I  have,  this  day,  taken  over  my 
aunt's  interest,  and  that  of  Monsieur  Allain, 
in  the  Girod  ship.  I  have,  therefore,  a  word 


OLD  SEA-ROVERS  AWAKEN  73 

as  to  her.  As  you  all  know  the  Napoleon  ven 
ture  is  not  a  secret.  The  mayor,  Rouiffignac, 
the  Creole  families  of  the  city,  are  heartily  in 
sympathy  with  it.  I  have  been  against  it  un 
til — Monsier  Dominique  proposed  that  we 
intrigue  for  Captain  Sazarac  to  command." 

There  was  a  shout — derision,  incredulity, 
protest.  The  wilder  ones  uprose  feverishly. 
Only  Jarvis  waved  a  languid  hand  from  his 
wine  mug.  "Ah — and  only  this  week  I  heard 
Monsieur  Almonaster  jest  of  it  with  De 
Marigny!  The  emperor  fetched  to  his  room 
and  board  on  the  rue  Chartres.  He  shall  be 
a  day's  wonder  in  our  new  gentlemen's 
masque  to  celebrate  Mardi  Gras!  We  shall 
all  chip  in  to  pay  Napoleon's  board,  and  every 
one  shall  be  pleased  and  happy!  Oh,  la! — 
what  a  town !  They  wonder  why  I  drink,  eh?" 

Count  Raoul  had  flushed  under  the  paint 
er's  gibes.  Dominique  would  have  spoken, 
but  Jarvis  staggered  up,  cup  in  hand.  "A 
toast!  The  plot!  Ho,  villains,  all— to  the 
plot!"  And  he  roared  the  louder. 

"The  devil  take  you!"  growled  Beluche. 
"The  watchman  on  the  corner — " 

Sazarac  raised  his  hand.    "I,  to  command? 


74  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

What  madness  again!  The  young  blades  of 
the  town  are  to  man  the  schooner — they 
would  be  spanked  to  bed  if  Lafitte  was  to  be 
known  among  them!" 

"We  have  thought  powerful  influence  could 
be  brought  to  bear  for  your  pardon,  Mon 
sieur.  A  rare  exploit  to  reinstate  you — seiz 
ing  the  emperor  from  his  prison  isle!" 

Sazarac  laughed  idly:  "Quite  impossible. 
Gentlemen,  I  beg  you — " 

"A  ship!"  shouted  Johanness,  as  if,  sud 
denly,  to  his  old  eyes  had  leaped  the  vision 
of  far  sea  days:  "The  Seraphim!  Jean,  and 
a  ship  again !  By  the  devil's  own,  we  shall  do 
that,  but  damnation  to  Napoleon!  A  ship 
shaken  free  in  the  gulf,  and  any  flag  will 
serve !" 

"Silence,  you  fool!"  gasped  Dominique. 

"Perdition  with  aldermen!  Ho,  you — 
Beluche,  with  the  gilt  gimcracks  on  your 
shoulders — what  do  you  think?  Jean  on  the 
quarter-deck,  and  you  and  I  at  the  lookouts? 
Name  o'  God!  One  crack  at  the  fat  fleets, 
and  then  south  across  the  line!" 

"In  the  swamps  off  Point  Le  Garde," 
shouted  Nez  Coupe,  "I  can  enlist  a  dozen  over 
night  who  once  sailed  with  Jean  and  Pierre  1" 


OLD  SEA-ROVERS  AWAKEN  75 

"Hist!"  lamented  Dominique.  "They  can 
hear  you  to  the  levee !  Let  the  young  gentle 
man  talk;  then  our  captain  will  have  it 
clearly.  He  shall  be  Sazarac  until  we  are 
cleared,  Captain  Caspar  Sazarac  with  recom 
mendations  from  the  Americans  of  the  West. 
Monsieur  de  Almonaster  will  vouch  for  Saz 
arac.  I,  myself,  the  alderman,  have  known 
this  worthy  Sazarac  who  is  to  be  the  secluded 
house  guest  of  Monsieur  de  Almonaster,  and 
introduced  aright  ere  we  broach  the  Napoleon 
matter—" 

Jarvis  suddenly  thrust  his  drink-swollen 
face  close  to  the  lamp.  He  grinned  with  tipsy 
awakening.  "Why,  so — this  Sazarac!  Ho, 
Jean! — a  woman!  You  are  overnight  in  the 
town,  and  at  once  a  wroman !"  He  fumbled  in 
his  breast  and  brought  out  a  crushed  flower, 
and  laid  it  down  with  a  mock  flourish.  "Did 
you  ever,  Captain  Caspar  Sazarac — smell 
camellias  in  the  moonlight?" 

Sazarac  looked  silently  at  him.  "My  good 
Jarvis — " 

But  he  checked  his  speech  sharply.  There 
came  a  firm  /rapping  on  the  wooden  gate  of 
the  garden.  A  quavering  voice  followed : 

"Sirs,  you  will  have  to  cease  this  reveling. 


76  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

The  lady  in  Madame  Duvall's  pension  across 
the  way  complains  that  she  can  not  sleep." 

The  old  watchman  waddled  on.  The  group 
about  the  table  was  mute. 

"Nom  de  Dieu!"  gasped  Dominique,  the 
alderman,  "I  am  glad  the  meddler  did  not 
know  I  was  here!" 

The  admiral  of  Cartagena  rubbed  his  nose 
with  the  top  of  his  gold  cockade :  "It  is  agreed 
there  was  too  much  noise  for  a  quiet  tavern 
such  as  Monsieur  Tinto's.  The  affair  must 
not  come  to  the  authorities — certainly  not!" 

Sazarac  stood  glancing  from  John  Jarvis 
to  the  camellia  upon  the  table.  The  jester 
was  grinning  knowingly.  The  Count  de  Al- 
monaster  turned  a  puzzled  face  upon  them 
both. 

"The  affair  of  the  English  woman,"  grum 
bled  Beluche.  "Twaddle  of  the  gossipers  on 
the  promenade.  A  drunken  fool,  and  an  evil 
jest!  Sazarac  need  not  challenge.  The  scan 
dal  is  upon  Carr  and  his  two  women." 

But  Jarvis  continued  to  leer  upon  the  lead 
er's  silent  face.  "I  wish  I  could  paint  love  in 
a  woman's  eye — "  he  mocked.  "Then  there 
should  be  a  mistress  with  a  camellia  in  her 


OLD  SEA-ROVERS  AWAKEN  77 

hair  at  my  studio."  He  turned  away  to  draw 
his  measure  of  wine.  And  back  in  the  shad 
ows  he  began  to  roar  a  chantey  of  privateer 
ing  days;  a  song  in  the  slipshod  Acadian 
patois  of  the  coast  parishes  where  the  adven 
turers  used  to  recruit  from  the  youth  of  the 
rustic  dances: 

"Di  terns  M'sieu  Lafitte, 

Ye  te  menin  monde  a  la  baguette — " 

"Silence  that  babbler!"  snarled  Beluche. 
"The  police—" 

"Be  quiet,  Jarvis,"  ordered  Jean  Lafitte. 

"We  are,  indeed,  making  too  much  noise — 
the  lady  can  not  sleep,"  complained  old 
Dominique.  "You  must  remember  I  am  the 
alderman — " 

The  young  count  suddenly  broke  to  sub 
dued  laughter.  And  around  the  table  strode 
Johanness,  shaking  the  hair  from  his  giant 
shoulders.  "Name  o'  the  devil!  What  have 
we  come  to,  bullies  all?  The  young  gentle 
man  is  the  only  true  companion  o'  my  heart 
...  the  rest  agree  we  disturb  a  lady  who 
can  not  sleep!  Nom  de  Dieu!  In  this  ac 
cursed  town  a  buccaneer  must  be  abed  by 
trine  o'clock — lest  a  lady  can  not  sleep !" 


CHAPTER  V 

TWO  GENTLEMEN   OF   MYSTERY 

THE  Honorable,  the  Mayor,  Monsieur  Rouif- 
fignac,  stood  on  the  stone  flags  of  the  City 
Hall,  or  Principal,  as  it  was  yet  called  from 
the  Spanish  days,  and  looked  contentedly  out 
on  the  rue  Chartres.  He  had  come  early, 
before  the  heat  of  the  day,  for  some  business 
with  his  clerks;  and  the  rue  Chartres,  and  the 
side-streets  from  the  river  to  the  Rampart 
were  enlivened  by  the  musical  cries  of  negro 
sellers. 

"Belles  des  figues!    Bonne  petit  calas!" 
And   the    dames   waddled   on,    some   with 
gold-hooked     earrings     shining     under     the 
greasy  black  hair  of  the  Indian  marketeers; 
some  old  slaves  bearing  great  bundles  of  new- 
washed  clothes  in  and  out  of  the  cool  court 
gates;    while   on   the    high   galleries   of   the 
houses,   behind   the   iron   grills,   one   caught 
glimpses  of  the  gentry  at  their  early  coffee 
78 


TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  MYSTERY        79 

whose  good,  fresh-roasted  odors  filled  all  the 
town  at  this  hour.  By  ten  o'clock,  as  the  heat 
grew,  the  great  wooden  doors  would  be  closed, 
the  blacks  would  drowse  in  the  areaways,  and 
the  residential  streets  deserted  until  the  four 
o'clock  dinner;  after  which  La  Nouvelle  Or 
leans  would  appear  fastidiously,  to  parade 
the  levee  in  the  coolness,  or  drive  out  the 
Esplanade. 

"Heigh-o!"  sighed  the  mayor.  "A  long  day 
for  me !  The  council  will  not  meet  until  ten — 
but  I  shall  cut  them  short!  Old  Dominique 
shall  not  pester  me,  all  asweat  under  his  inter 
minable  speeches  as  to  completing  the  filling 
of  the  moat.  The  Americans  of  the  Faubourg 
Marigny  clamor  more  and  more  for  city 
revenue,  while  the  Vieux  Carre  goes  to  decay. 
Ah,  there — good  morning,  Monsieur  Mudge!" 

Mr.  Mudge,  of  the  banking  firm  of  Mudge 
&  Fickert,  was  turning  from  the  street :  a  tall 
and  immaculate  gentleman  in  high  bell  hat 
and  new,  long,  tight  trousers  outside  his 
equally  tight  boots;  and  behind  him,  the 
mayor  noted,  was  Mr.  Langhorne,  the  consul 
of  Great  Britain.  The  greetings  were  of 
punctilious  respect. 


80  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"What  makes  you  so  early  astir,  gentle 
men?"  queried  His  Honor.  "As  for  me — I  am 
the  most  lamentably  overworked  man  in 
Louisiana.  The  governor  sends  me  vast  com 
munications — all  in  the  English,  these  days, 
which,  unfortunately,  I  can  not  read  so  well; 
and  Monsieur  La  Tour,  getting  up  his  new  city 
directory,  insists  that  I  read  his  proofs — and 
there  is  not  a  picayune  victualer,  nor  a 
mender  of  pots  that  he  does  not  get  in  so  that 
New  Orleans  may  claim  rank  with  Phila 
delphia  or  New  York!  La — la!  there  are  too 
many  of  us  now!" 

"You  may  well  say,"  rejoined  Mr.  Mudge 
hurriedly,  "complaint  has  already  been  made 
by  the  English  captain — petty  thieves  made 
away  with  some  of  his  merchandise  on  the 
Algierine  dock.  The  customs  people  have 
pursued  them — I  believe  one  fellow  was  shot 
in  a  fracas  down  Bayou  Barataria,  near  the 
plantation  of  Monsieur  Berthoud." 

"An  outrage,  sir,"  protested  the  consul.  "In 
the  name  of  His  Majesty  I  must  make  repre 
sentations — " 

"It  is  an  affair,  sir,"  said  Monsieur  Rouif- 
fignac  politely,  "more  for  the  United  States 
authorities." 


TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  MYSTERY       81 

"Yes,  but  they  are  laughing  about  the  town, 
sir !  Rough  fellows  of  the  wine-shops  and  the 
levees  are  all  agog  with  this  rumor  that  the 
bandit  of  Barataria  has  returned;  and  at  once 
an  outrage  is  put  on  the  port's  shipping!" 

"Hum,"  said  the  mayor,  "I  know.  Thirty 
cases  of  muskets,  by  some  mistake,  put  out 
from  the  English  ship  on  the  dock.  The  port 
officers — " 

"The  captain  of  the  Genaron  has  protested, 
sir,"  fumed  the  consul;  "the  cargo  was  des 
tined  for  the  Mexicoes.  But  some  thieving 
villains  take  advantage  of  the  question 
raised — " 

"The  Baratarians,  Monsieur  Mayor!"  blust 
ered  the  merchant;  "the  pardoned  rascals  of 
Jean  Lafitte!  The  very  rumor  of  his  return 
disturbs  commerce.  Look,  now — here  comes 
old  Gorgio,  the  crayfish  seller — as  big  a  vil 
lain  as  is  unhung,  pardoned  by  the  president! 
And  do  you  think  he  will  trouble  himself  to 
step  off  the  banquette  when  gentlemen  come 
by,  when  he  knows  that  half  of  Louisiana  has 
come  to  think  of  Jean  Lafitte  as  more  patriot 
than  pirate?" 

"Hum — hum,"  mused  the  placid  mayor; 
"some  maintain  that  he  saved  the  city  in  1815. 


82  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

Eh,  my  dear  Consul! — but  we  are  very  good 
friends  now,  are  we  not?  The  British  are 
very  welcome — never  was  such  good  feeling 
as  now  under  President  Monroe — Yankees, 
Creoles  and  English  alike  in  La  Belle  Louis 
iana  !  Hum — hum — and  here  comes  Monsieur 
Dominique,  who  ought  to  know  something 
about  this  idle  gossip  of  Lafitte." 

Mudge,  the  banker,  bowed  stiffly  to  the 
portly  alderman;  Langhorne,  with  a  frown- 
there  were  some  fastidious  gentry  who  did 
not  care  for  equality  with  the  pardoned  and 
Falstaffian  buccaneer.  But  as  long  as  his 
lusty  constituency  of  the  river  levees  returned 
him  to  office,  not  a  fig  did  the  worthy  Dom 
inique  care  for  the  blue  stockings.  The  mayor 
turned  slyly  to  him. 

"Ah,  Monsieur  Dominique !  The  gentlemen 
ask  of  a  matter  upon  which  you  might  enlight 
en  us.  Lafitte's  reputed  return !" 

The  councilor  raised  a  fat  hand.  "And  if  it 
were  true  rue  Royale  would  be  ribboned  to 
welcome  him,  I  do  believe!" 

The  respectable  banker  shrugged.  "Enough ! 
Mr.  Langhorne,  we  shall  take  our  business  to 
the  Customs!  The  city  is  a  trifler's  town! 


TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  MYSTERY       83 

And  this  other  jest — the  sailing  of  the  Na 
poleon  ship.  Mr.  Mayor,  the  folly  leaps  and 
grows!  Sober  decent  merchants  entering  the 
coffee-houses  are  badgered  by  young  roister 
ers  to  subscribe  to  the  plot  Napoleon!  Any 
thing  for  a  fanfaronade,  even  if  it  brought 
England  and  the  United  States  to  war!" 

Langhorne,  the  consul,  raised  a  hand 
laughingly.  "The  Seraphine,  good  sirs,  will 
be  well  watched  once  these  crackbrains  put 
her  nose  out  the  passes!  His  Majesty  is  not 
atremble  at  this  frolic!" 

And  with  a  bow  the  two  gentlemen  de 
parted.  Half  a  square  distant,  the  consul 
turned  to  the  banker. 

"Colonel  Carr,  sir — has  me  distracted.  He 
brings  credentials  from  Quebec  that  I  can  not 
ignore,  and  yet  I  mistrust  him.  Styled  as  a 
commissioner  to  the  rebellious  subjects  of 
the  Spanish  king  in  New  Granada,  he  has 
seemed  overbusied  up  the  Mississippi  on  his 
way  overland.  I  like  it  not,  Mr.  Mudge,  when 
England  and  America  seem  at  last  in  hearty 
accord  on  the  president's  declaration  against 
the  Holy  Alliance's  schemes  to  the  south." 

"You  fear  Carr's  honesty?    Faith,  the  fel- 


84  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

low  has  been  too  drunken  to  be  dangerous. 
And  you  know  his  brawl  with  this  Captain 
Sazarac?  I  should  say  they  are  both  men  of 
mystery  out  of  the  Northwest.  The  old  talk 
of  Aaron  Burr's  rival  republic  in  the  Missis 
sippi  Valley  is  revived  again;  but  if  England 
is  in  it—" 

"Perdition,  sir !  It  is  not  so !  He  who  conies 
to  Louisiana  thinking  to  find  friction  between 
the  Yankees  and  the  Creoles  must  be  a  better 
diplomat  than  Colonel  Carr,  sir — if  that  is 
what  you  mean !" 

The  merchant  took  snuff  gravely.  "We 
trust  that  he  represents  nothing  but  some 
malicious  fur-traders,  sir.  Last  night,  I  am 
informed,  he  had  Madame  Page's  pension  in 
an  uproar.  Starting  to  beat  a  black  girl,  he 
wound  up  by  striking  his  wife;  and  then  hav 
ing  a  set-to  with  some  unknown  guest  or 
caller.  And  the  lady  who  is  his  wrife,  sir — is 
not  of  mettle  to  brook  outrage." 

"Mrs.  Carr  is  of  an  old  Tory  family  that 
fled  from  New  York  in  the  first  war — bitter 
against  the  American  government — far  more 
than  the  British  themselves.  Then  there  is 
Carr's  ward — " 


TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  MYSTERY       85 

"I  had  heard  a  famous  beauty,  sir." 

"The  young  gallants  already  are  agog  for 
a  peep  at  her  when  she  is  driven  on  the 
Esplanade.  But  the  women  seek  absolute 
seclusion,  humiliated  utterly,  at  Colonel 
Garr's  conduct." 

"The  girl  is  of  value  to  Carr's  schemes,  you 
think?" 

Langhorne  took  his  snuff  absently.  "That 
is  the  question.  She  was  of  a  family  that  had 
great  estates  in  the  islands.  She  is  loyal  to 
the  Carrs  through  gratitude  to  those  who 
saved  her  life." 

The  merchant  glanced  at  the  clock  in  the 
cathedral  facade. 

"Well,  enough  of  this.  The  coffee-houses 
have  already  forgotten  the  affair  of  Garr  and 
this  adventurer,  Sazarac." 

"This  week  the  sensation  is  choosing  the 
crew  under  Bossiere  to  man  the  Napoleon 
ship.  Nothing  has  so  tickled  the  popular 
fancy  of  the  Creoles!" 

"I  trust  your  government  does  not  take  it 
seriously?" 

The  consul  laughed  shortly.  "We  watch 
it,  sir!  The  clipper  inay  take  twoscore  gal- 


86  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

lants  out  of  the  city,  for  if  the  thing  is  made 
fashionable  enough,  the  Seraphine  would  sail 
with  her  decks  crammed  by  ambitious  admir 
als,  commodores,  captains  and  lieutenants! 
Bonaparte,  himself,  would  be  astounded  at 
the  array  of  perfumed  gentlemen  who  would 
greet  him  in  his  exile!" 

"Bossiere  is  to  command,"  mused  Mr. 
Mudge.  "He,  at  least,  is  a  seaman." 

"And  were  he  to  order  these  young  scions 
of  the  city's  blue  blood  to  holystone  his  decks, 
he  would  have  to  land  in  every  isle  of  the 
Indies  to  settle  the  challenges!  No,  no — sir, 
Bonaparte  is  safe  from  these  gentry!" 

The  two  gentlemen  smiled.  But  as  they 
were  to  part,  down  the  banquette  of  the  rue 
Chartres  came  two  figures,  one  supporting  the 
other.  A  short,  dark,  ragged  man  whose  gold 
earrings  glistened  under  filthy  locks,  strug 
gling  to  save  his  basket  of  cooked  crayfish  as 
he  steered  his  companion  on. 

"Let  be — "  growled  Gorgio,  the  Catalan. 
"Come,  Jarvis — the  Cafe  des  Refugies  for  you, 
man!" 

"A  ship !"  bawled  Jarvis.  And  being  much 
the  larger  of  the  two  he  almost  propelled  the 


TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  MYSTERY        87 

crayfish  seller  into  the  two  elegant  gentlemen, 
who  stepped  aside  in  disgust  to  let  them  pass. 

"A  ship !    A  rescue,  old  buccaneer !" 

He  lurched  to  the  banquette,  and  sat  there 
blinking.  Old  Gorgio  hauled  in  vain  at  his 
sleeve.  "Gome,  be  up  with  me!" 

But  the  town's  first  Bohemian  continued  to 
fumble  at  his  clothes. 

"It  was  this  way  they  went,  Gorgio.  I  am 
even  now  on  my  way  to  the  police  to  report 
of  the  affair.  I  have  been  in  and  out  of  the 
cafes  since  before  dawn  telling  of  it.  I  shall 
appeal  to  the  mayor — Rouiffignac  is  not  so 
dumb  as  to  refuse  rescue  to  a  lady!" 

"What  does  he  babble  of?"  inquired  Lang- 
horne  haughtily. 

The  painter  got  to  his  feet.  He  was  bleed 
ing  from  a  gash  across  his  brows.  On  his 
sleeve  he  laid  a  crushed  and  dirty  camellia. 
Then,  down  the  street  came  Mayor  Rouiffig 
nac  and  Councilor  Dominique  to  see  what 
might  be  this  public  scandal.  And  to  them 
Jarvis  suddenly  shouted  his  grievance. 

"I  was  fumbling  along  the  rue  St.  Peter  in 
the  mud,  sober  as  any  honest  man,  save  that 
the  moon  kept  diving  past  me.  And  there 


88  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

came  a  carriage  that  all  but  ran  me  down. 
The  horses  stumbled — and  a  lady  screamed. 
She  thrust  an  arm  from  the  curtains — a  white 
arm,  I  reached  to  touch.  And  a  fellow  within 
struck  me  ...  I  got  up  later — I  and  my  blos 
som.  I  swear  she  had  more  camellias  in  her 
hair!  Eh,  there — I  have  told  it  again!  Now 
laugh,  fools!" 

"Where  did  you  come  upon  this  man,  Mon 
sieur  Mudge?"  said  His  Honor. 

"Here,  as  you  see — dirty  and  howling!"  re 
turned  the  merchant. 

"Gorgio,  take  him  home,  and  come  to  my 
clerk  for  a  dollar,"  frowned  the  mayor.  "It's 
drunkard's  talk." 

"Home?"  blustered  Jarvis.  "A  lady  seized, 
spirited  away  in  a  galloping  chaise  through 
New  Orleans'  streets — and  you  say:  'Home!' 
Then  romance  is  dead,  sirs!  I  shall  paint  a 
fish-woman's  shawl  on  my  lady's  head,  and 
sorrow  in  her  eyes.  It  was  not  so  when  Jean 
Lafitte  was  here!" 

"You  have  dreamed — "  muttered  Domi 
nique,  watching  him  covertly.  "Gome  with 
me,  Jarvis." 

"My  skinned  nose  and  brow — is  that  a 
dream?" 


TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  MYSTERY        89 

"He  has  stumbled  nightlong  about  the 
streets,"  said  Gorgio  sullenly.  Between  the 
crayfish  seller  and  the  rotund  alderman  there 
shot  glances  of  alert  understanding.  The 
t  Catalan  nodded,  stretched  his  hand  to  the 
painter  and  bent  upon  him  a  look  of  implac 
able  fury. 

"Let  be!"  grunted  Jarvis.  "Camellias? 
Let's  see?  Why,  Jean — last  night— 

"Silence — fool!"  whispered  Gorgio.  He 
seized  upon  the  fellow;  he  bore  him  along 
with  his  bull-necked  strength  against  his  back. 

"He  is  utterly  drunk,"  murmured  Domi 
nique.  "Come,  gentlemen — let  us  to  our  morn 
ing  coffee  at  Maspero's!"  He  took  the 
mayor's  arm,  turning  him  hurriedly.  A 
block  distant  the  councilor  looked  back, 
fiddling  with  his  velvet  cuff  nervously.  The 
Catalan  vagabond  was  dragging  his  comrade 
on. 

But  none  save  the  alderman  saw  that  the 
hand  of  the  one-time  buccaneer  was  under 
Jarvis's  arm,  that  his  knife-point  pressed 
there  until  the  coat  was  torn. 

"A  word  more,"  hissed  the  crayfish  seller, 
"and — die!"  Then  he  whispered:  "Sazarac 


90  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

.  .  .  and  the  English  woman?  Jean — and  the 
wager  he  won?  Who,  then,  has  better  right 
to  the  woman?  Home,  now! — get  your  paint 
pots  and  paint  a  poultice  on  your  broken 
head!" 

But  Gorgio  had  to  drag  the  unconscious 
wastrel  up  the  studio  stairs,  and  there  lock 
him  in  ere  he  went  to  a  whispered  conference 
behind  a  cabbage  stack  in  the  French  Market. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   MASK  IS  DROPPED 

IT  WAS  after  the  heat  of  that  same  day  that 
two  horsemen  rode  out  from  a  courtyard  of 
the  Faubourg  St.  Marie  upon  the  Tchoupi- 
toulas  Road. 

Count  de  Almonaster  breathed  relief  when 
the  river  willows  hid  them  and  the  steeds 
broke  to  a  gallop.  Already,  above  the  Vieux 
Carre  in  the  Quartier  Americaine  pretentious 
warehouses  of  bricks,  stores  and  taverns,  and 
rows  of  new,  unpainted  dwellings  were  aris 
ing  behind  the  levee  on  whose  river  side  lay 
the  double-stacked  steamboats  which  were 
the  talk  of  the  decade.  The  road  passed  neat 
truck  gardens  and  homes  of  stucco,  pillared 
ambitiously  to  resemble  the  stately  places  of 
the  Creole  aristocracy  on  the  far  side  of  the 
city  along  the  Esplanade. 

"My  blacks  are  waiting  at  the  ferry,"  mur 
mured  De  Almonaster;  "now,  Captain  Saz- 

91 


92  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

arac,  did  the  plainsmen  teach  you  to  ride? 
Come,  then!"  And  the  guest  led  the  way 
in  a  cloud  of  dust.  A  half-dozen  slaves  up 
rose  as  the  two  dashed  over  the  levee,  dis 
mounted  and  flung  rein  to  the  grooms.  Then 
the  scow-boat  swung  off  on  the  muddy  Miss 
issippi  propelled  by  the  naked-backed  oars 
men. 

Sazarac  stood  watching  the  willowed 
shores.  The  city  was  invisible,  but  on  the 
western  bank  arose  the  stately  facades  of 
plantation  homes  among  great  oaks.  Beyond 
this,  glimpses  of  the  grim,  gray  forest  wall, 
the  impenetrable  cypress  swamp,  with  its 
watery  aisles  leading  to  Barataria,  the  legend- 
haunted,  even  at  this  early  day. 

"The  Americans  even  yet  do  not  send  their 
customs  men  down  the  bayous,"  said  De 
Almonaster.  "They  are  building  a  great  fort 
on  Grand  Terre  where  stood  your  famed  Red 
House,  but  they  approach  it  by  the  sea." 

"They  hardly  need  that,"  returned  the  exile. 
"I,  myself,  proved  that  no  foreign  force  can 
attack  New  Orleans  from  the  south  swamps. 
No,  my  friend,  if  trouble  comes  to  them  it 
will  be  from  down-river  and  the  west.  If 


THE  MASK  IS  DROPPED  93 

sedition  arose  there,  it  would  be  a  thousand 
miles  of  rough  travel  through  the  Carolinas 
ere  Washington  could  recover  the  city." 

The  host  smiled.  "A  rumor  by  every  packet 
— a  rebellion  by  every  overland  rider  from 
Kentucky.  New  Orleans  is  a  complacent  little 
capital  of  its  own,  but  it  is  absurd  to  think  we 
favor  breaking  away  from  the  Washington 
government.  Aaron  Burr  found  no  support 
among  us,  you  recall?" 

Sazarac  seemed  to  evade  the  topic.  "This, 
your  country  place,  Monsieur?" 

"The  nearer  one.  Our  family  estates  are  in 
St.  James  Parish.  I  treasure  this  for  its  hunt 
ing,  and  nearness  to  the  city.  Two  hours,  and 
I  can  be  at  the  opera  or  Maspero's — and  an 
hour  in  the  other  direction,  down  in  your  own 
haunts  where  law  is  the  word  of  the  clan." 
He  stepped  ashore  as  the  scow  grounded,  and 
led  the  way  across  the  broad  lawns  to  the 
high  steps  of  the  porticoed  gallery  of  the 
white  mansion.  Black  boys  dashed  for  the 
bridles.  At  the  great  glass  doors  arose  a 
grizzled  major-domo.  Past  into  the  wide 
hall,  a  visitor  would  know  that  no  woman's 
hand  had  to  do  with  the  establishment.  There 


94  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

was  a  spotless,  severe  simplicity  about  the 
high  quiet  rooms. 

"At  your  pleasure,  sir,"  said  Raoul.  "A 
drink  shall  be  brought,  and  the  bath.  I  have 
a  surprise,  though,  perhaps,  not  for  a  man 
from  the  West.  Ice,  Monsieur!  Ice,  cut  in  a 
slough  near  St.  Louis,  and  brought  to  be 
stored  in  sawdust  in  my  cellar!  It  is  a  great 
curiosity  to  my  neighbors,  the  Duverges  and 
Des  Trehans,  I  assure  you.  Madame  Des 
Trehan  says  I  can  marry  into  any  family  be 
cause  of  my  ice-cellar — in  the  summer!" 

"I  have  thought  it  strange" — Sazarac  smiled 
absently — "that  you — of  the  Spanish  Almon- 
asters,  of  wealth  and  connections  beyond  the 
proudest  in  the  city — have  chosen  to  idle  un 
attached." 

"I  have  my  dream — "  De  Almonaster  said 
gravely.  "A  boy's  dream  .  .  .  but  it  does  not 
pass.  For  six  years  now,  the  loveliest  face 
that  could  stir  youth  has  been  with  me.  It 
was  for  that  I  cruised  last  year  about  the 
Caribbean  ports — aimlessly  seeking,  slowly 
trying  to  forget.  Ah,  well !  I  am  trying  to  be 
a  practical  sober  man — financing  the  new 
sugar  process !" 


THE  MASK  IS  DROPPED  95 

With  a  bow  he  left  the  guest.  The  stranger 
looked  from  the  great  windows  upon  the  gar 
dens  of  yucca,  oleanders  in  red  bloom,  sweet 
oranges  and  crape-myrtle  about  the  ancient 
oaks.  Beyond  the  narrow  fields  ran  a  rutted 
road,  and  Jean  Lafitte  smiled.  Up  that  same 
road  had  come  the  clumsy  carts  of  the  smug 
glers  who  met  the  gulf  adventurers  in  the 
swamp  rendezvous  and  brought  the  loot  of 
.silks  and  wines  and  jewels  taken  from  luck 
less  merchantmen  on  the  Spanish  Main.  By 
pole-boat  from  the  coast,  by  carts  to  the  river 
forest;  and  then,  at  dead  of  night,  ferried  by 
other  agents  across  to  the  warehouses  of  the 
city.  And  to  Pierre  Lafitte's  cloaking  smithy 
on  the  rue  Bourbon,  came  the  winking  mer 
chants  to  watch  the  slaves  work  the  forges 
while  they  slyly  murmured  to  the  proprietor : 
"I  hear  that  a  ship  from  Bilboa  strangely 
foundered  in  Yucatan  Strait?  .  .  .  What, 
pray,  is  the  price  of  brocade  and  silver  plate 
at  Monsieur  Lafitte's  Red  House  at  Grand 
Terre?" 

"Hypocritical  dogs!"  muttered  the  master 
now.  "I  respect  the  roughest  scoundrel  of  my 
own  band  more  than  the  smug  merchants  who 


96  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

enriched  themselves  on  our  traffic,  covertly 
protecting  us  while  they  profited;  eager  to 
denounce  us  when  our  last  ship  was  driven 
from  the  gulf!" 

The  liquor  decanter  was  on  a  highboy  of 
heavy  rosewood.  The  adventurer's  melan 
choly  eyes  lighted  as  he  examined  it,  the  great 
four-post  bed,  the  table  and  the  mirrors. 

"Loot  from  Isle  o'  Pines !  I  recall  Gambio's 
sweating  blacks  poling  it  from  the  swamp  to 
be  sold  to  a  city  factor!  It  turns  up  at  De 
Almonaster's  and  I  am  entertained  with  it!" 

His  laughter  had  hardly  ceased  when  he 
joined  his  host  at  dinner.  Never  a  more  well- 
appointed  guest  had  Count  Raoul  greeted  than 
the  last  sea-rover  who  sat  across  the  board 
beyond  the  golden  candelabrum.  Italian, 
English,  Spanish,  came  as  easily  to  Jean  La- 
fitte's  lips  as  his  French  of  Garonne.  The 
younger  man  was  thinking  of  their  mystery — 
Pierre  and  Jean,  who  appeared  from  the  seas 
twenty  years  before  to  assume  leadership  of 
the  Grand  Terre  privateers,  to  organize  a  war 
upon  gulf  traffic  that  the  struggling  Republic 
at  Washington  could  not  destroy,  and  so  fi 
nally  summoned  its  leaders  to  a  common  de 
fense  against  Pakenham's  attack  in  1815. 


THE  MASK  IS  DROPPED  97 

What  their  history,  what,  even,  was  their 
real  name  and  identity,  all  Louisiana  had 
never  discovered.  Two  gentlemen  of  Ga 
ronne,  polished,  educated,  affable,  who  chose 
to  say  nothing  but  to  do  much — and  to  shroud 
that  in  the  spaces  of  the  south  seas — such 
were  the  brothers  Lafitte. 

Monsieur  Sazarac  raised  a  hand.  Pigeon  a 
la  Royale,  salmi  de  bacassines,  woodcock 
with  watercress,  the  brandies  and  cafe  noir. 
He  held  a  glass  before  him. 

"As  to  the  wine,  young  sir,  I  could  swear 
there  had  been  mischief  in  the  gulf  again!" 

Raoul  laughed  ardently:  "If  ever,  sir,  one 
of  my  uncle's  ships,  which  bring  our  wine 
from  Bordeaux,  had  fallen  your  way,  all  the 
wars  of  Bonaparte  had  been  nothing  to  the 
uproar  he  would  have  raised !" 

"Gome — "  smiled  the  guest.  "I  would  for 
get  it  all!" 

"If  we  let  you — "  he  signaled  the  serving 
men  to  withdraw.  "Now,  I  am  delegated  by 
your  own  worthy  companions  for  this — the 
Napoleon  plot — is  not  that  adventure 
enough?" 

"More.**  Sazarac  smiled  distantly.  "I  am 
done  with  adventuring.  I  dream  of  a  planta- 


98  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

tion  in  the  Indies.  In  Louisiana,  even  if  again 
granted  amnesty,  my  presence  would  be  a 
sore  spot.  Let  any  thieving  brawl  come  in 
the  ports,  and  at  once  Lafitte's  old  men  are 
charged  with  it.  They  are  peaceful  men  now, 
scattered  on  the  coast — hunters,  raisers  of 
truck,  and  fishers.  Let  the  dead  past  lie,  my 
friend.  I  am  an  evil  legacy  ...  and  I  am 
forty-two!" 

"And  yet — the  lady  of  the  packet  boat!" 
mused  Raoul.  "Strange?" 

"To  her,  Sazarac,  the  gamester — to  you, 
Lafitte,  the  outlaw.  And  yet — "  the  older  man 
stopped,  his  gaze  out  the  glass  doors  to  the 
starlight. 

"And  yet,  Monsieur — Sazarac — what  if  you, 
of  all  men,  brought  Napoleon  triumphantly 
out  of  his  exile  to  the  New  World?  What 
proud  lady  of  all  Louisiana  would  not  be 
thrilled  by  the  name — Lafitte !" 

"Now,  that  is  ridiculous,"  frowned  the  other 
man.  "She — an  English  Tory — an  intrigue  to 
aid  Bonaparte  win  her  approval?"  He 
laughed:  "Ah,  well,  a  lovely  lady  for  whom 
I  would  have  fought;  and  I  had  to  turn  aside 
in  silence.  I  am  Lafitte.  That  is  the  irony  of 


THE  MASK  IS  DROPPED  99 

it — at  forty-two,  discredited,  a  fugitive  under 
a  mask  .  .  .  and  she  smiled  upon  the  man 
who  is  the  knave  in  either  role.  I  did  not 
challenge  Colonel  Carr,"  he  concluded  point 
edly. 

"I  saw  that."  Raoul  repressed  his  curious 
note.  "We  knew  you  went  to  confront  him." 
He  shrugged.  "Come,  my  Captain  Jean!  I, 
too,  have  greatly  loved — and  lost.  Now,  this 
affair  is  of  the  sea  and  men.  Would  you  not 
listen?  You  heard  last  night  your  old  wild 
fellows  chuckling  with  it!" 

The  guest  stared  hard  at  him.  "Napoleon? 
The  devil  they  would  care  for  him!  Tooth 
and  nail  on  the  first  merchantman — loot, 
scurry,  spend  fistfuls  of  gold  in  the  ports  of 
South  America — and  then  the  yard-arm  for 
them  all!  Monsieur,  the  world  has  shuffled 
off  our  gentlemen  of  fortune !" 

"It  is  the  English  woman  holds  you  from 
us,"  said  Raoul,  and  then  saw  the  black  line 
deepen  on  the  other's  brow.  The  host  bit  his 
lip;  and  then  upon  the  silence,  there  came 
rapid  footsteps.  A  doorman  was  expostulat 
ing  at  the  broad  gallery.  There  was  a  scuffle, 
an  oath. 


100  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

"But  I  shall  enter,  fellow !    Out  of  the  door !" 

De  Almonaster  had  arisen  by  the  silver- 
laden  board,  with  a  hasty  glance  at  his  guest's 
impassive  face  under  the  golden  candela 
brum,  when  the  burly  grizzled  Johanness 
charged  from  the  hallway.  He  turned  with 
out  greeting,  staring  at  Sazarac. 

"You,  Captain  Jean !  See,  I  have  fought  for 
you!  A  customs  guard,  I  think  it  was,  wTent 
down  by  the  cutlass.  Nez  Coupe,  Bohon  and 
I  stopped  them  from  the  first  crossing,  but  the 
dragoons  are  here!" 

Sazarac  arose.  The  old  buccaneer  was 
sheathing  his  sword.  Then  he  sprang  to  the 
great  windows  and  drew  the  silken  curtain. 
"I  see  the  boat's  lights,"  he  grumbled  surlily. 
"The  city  is  in  an  uproar!" 

"Monsieur,"  the  guest  turned  to  De  Almon 
aster.  "The  thing  I  feared  has  come.  My  name, 
in  some  brawl  on  the  water-front — " 

"Your  name?"  shouted  Johanness.  "No! 
It  is  Sazarac  they  seek!  Sazarac,  the  packet 
gambler!  Damnation! — they  put  the  affair 
straight  on  Sazarac!" 

"What  of  Sazarac?"  Raoul  advanced  won- 
deringly. 


THE  MASK  IS  DROPPED  101 

The  old  bo'sun  laughed,  his  eyes  glittered. 
He  turned  to  his  chief:  "If  you  had  told  us, 
Jean,  we  would  have  had  the  woman  miles 
beyond  recovery,  ere  the  word*  was  out." 

"The  woman?"  Sazarac  eyed  -him  sharply. 
"Old  man,  tell  me  this !"  -  .  :  :  '  j  '..; 

"First  they  rout  the  packets.  Then  beat  out 
the  levee  wine-shops.  All  that  they  knew  was 
that  you  had  vanished  with  the  English 
woman!" 

"Hold!"  cried  Sazarac.  "With  the  English 
woman — " 

"Jarvis,  the  fool,  first  told  the  tale,  and  no 
one  believed  him.  Then  the  colonel's  wife, 
then  Carr,  himself,  like  a  madman  to  the 
authorities.  She  was  heard  to  scream  .  .  . 
a  river  guard  says  there  was  some  commotion 
on  a  small  boat  off  the  rue  Conti,  but  he 
thought  it  was  a  drunken  revel.  Dominique 
hurried  me  here  to  warn  you — he,  alone, 
knew  you  were  a  guest  of  Monsieur!  I  did 
not  believe  you  wrould  be  here  .  .  .  unless  the 
English  woman — " 

The  sea  adventurer  had  sprung  as  if  to  seize 
the  old  man's  throat. 

"She— taken— kidnapped  ?" 


102  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"Why,  the  tale  runs — down  to  the  Barataria 

swamps !    Sazarac  was  heard  to  say  he  would 

possess  her,  bond  girl  or  free!"     Johanness 

.  grinned,     "Here  is  my  sword,  Jean — before 

'  'you  and  the  English  woman  wherever  she 

;••:?%;"  :•«  f'.  **•• 

De  Almonaster  was  watching  a  boat's  lights 
on  the  dark  river.  "They  seek  Sazarac,  then? 
Monsieur,  can  we  explain  sufficiently  where 
you  were  last  night?  I  do  not  question,  but 
you  will  see  the  position — " 

"Was  she  not  fair  game  ...  if  my  captain 
desired  her?"  glowered  Johanness. 

"You  will  be  quiet,  Johanness.  Stand  by  to 
watch  the  approach."  He  turned  to  his  host: 
"This  seems  some  incredible  jest.  The  lady 
vanished — it  appears  worthy  of  John  Jarvis's 
telling—" 

Old  Johanness  gaped  upon  him  unbeliev 
ingly.  "It  would  seem  you  deny  knowledge 
of  it!  Sazarac  was  recognized  standing  be 
fore  her  hotel  when  all  the  town  was  abed. 
Sazarac  swore  he  would  claim  her.  It  seems 
that  not  until  late  afternoon  did  a  servant 
discover  she  had  been  seized  in  her  room. 
Then  came  Jarvis's  story,  piecing  the  thing 


THE  MASK  IS  DROPPED  103 

out.  There  is  no  doubt.  The  authorities  are 
informed.  The  consul,  the  governor,  the  mili 
tary!"  He  stopped,  puzzledly  watching  his 
chief:  "And  Sazarac  has  vanished,  you  see!" 

"There  is  work  for  me,"  muttered  Sazarac 
to  his  host.  "It  is  enough  to  say  I  had  no  hand 
in  this.  Come — throw  the  doors  wide,  Johan- 
ness!" 

"You  will  have  no  chance!  You  will  be 
recognized  at  once!  It  is  a  tale  to  hang  on 
Jean  Lafitte.  The  swamp,  my  Captain,  ere 
the  dragoons  come!" 

"Monsieur,"  Sazarac  spoke  apart  to  Raoul. 
"She  was  to  speak  of  some  matter  of  which 
her  life  appeared  to  be  the  price.  The  mys 
tery — Carr's  mission.  The  consul's  embar 
rassment.  Who  could  have  taken  Miss  Les- 
tron?" 

"To  the  swamps  without  doubt,"  growled 
Johanness,  "but  she  can  not  be  hidden  from 
swamp  eyes.  Jean,  if  you  seek  her — there  is 
the  trail!" 

Sazarac  swept  to  action.  "True !  My  place 
is  there — and  free  to  follow  her!" 

De  Almonaster  grasped  his  hand  as  he 
stepped  to  the  dark.  "You  will  send  me  word* 


104  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

sir?  I  am  at  your  service,  Monsieur — Saz- 
arac!" 

"The  game  is  up  for  Sazarac!  Lafitte,  then, 
threading  the  secret  swamp  trails  to  unknown 
ends — Lafitte,  again  the  fugitive,  driven  back 
to  his  old  haunts  as  the  hounds  bay  at  the 
fox.  Adieu,  Monsieur!  I  am  Lafitte." 

De  Almonaster  heard  a  whispered  laugh  as 
the  exile  mounted  a  horse  which  the  blacks 
had  hurried  from  the  stables.  As  he  passed 
the  gate,  the  old  yard-man  raised  a  fright 
ened  cry  and  dropped  his  flambeau. 

"Massa  Lafitte!" 

De  Almonaster  ground  his  teeth  in  fury. 
"Silence  that  fellow!"  he  hissed  to  the  house 
blacks.  "Death  to  the  one  of  you  who  whis 
pers  a  word  of  this  night's  matters!" 

Silently  he  ran  back,  up  the  rear  way,  and 
a  moment  more  stood  idly  by  the  candles  that 
shone  on  the  remnants  of  the  feast.  The 
bronze  knocker  at  the  door  dropped  loudly. 
The  frightened  servant  opened  it.  A  young 
captain  of  the  American  dragoons  stepped  in 
hastily.  He  saluted,  embarrassed  now  at  his 
abruptness. 

"Your  pardon,  Mtfnsieur  de  Almonaster — " 


THE  MASK  IS  DROPPED  105 

"Ah,  Captain  Roche!    Will  you  enter?" 

"Thank  you.  We  are  seeking  information. 
A  young  woman  of  the  party  of  Colonel  Carr 
of  the  British  Mission,  waiting  to  embark  for 
Vera  Cruz,  has  been  seized.  The  clues  lead 
to  this  west  shore,  apparently  near  your  place, 
Monsieur.  The  British  consul  threatens  to 
involve  the  two  governments — it  is  said  that 
the  gambler,  Sazarac,  has  done  this  trick  .  .  . 
and  that  he  is  in  reality  Jean  Lafitte,  turned 
up  from  the  dead!" 

"Ah! — incredible!"  murmured  De  Almon- 
aster.  "The  famed  beauty,  Miss  Lestron! 
Possibly  I  am  the  one  man  in  New  Orleans 
who  has  not  seen  her." 

The  young  officer  seemed  more  embar 
rassed.  "I  am  sorry  to  say,  sir,  that  my  infor 
mation  was  to  the  effect  that  this  Sazarac  was 
your  guest.  It  is  regrettable  that  I  must 
inquire  and  search — " 

The  host  bowred:  "My  compliments  to  the 
governor,  and  say  that,  to-night,  Monsieur  de 
Almonaster  Roxas  did,  indeed,  entertain  at 
dinner,  Captain  Gaspar  Sazarac  of  the  Amer 
ican  Explorations." 

"Ah,  but — "  gasped  the   dragoon  captain. 


106  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"It  is  a  villainous  affair  that  is  charged  to 
Lafitte,  the  returned  freebooter!  Where, 
Monsieur,  is  he?" 

"Where  could  he  have  gone?  The  river  on 
one  side — the  swamp  on  the  other.  It  is  la 
mentable  !" 

"I  demand  him,  Monsieur!"  The  young  of 
ficer  was  getting  angry. 

The  host  concealed  a  yawn.  "I  recall  that, 
once,  in  the  old  days,  the  governor  of  Louis 
iana  demanded  him.  He  sent  word  to  the 
governor  that  he  would  receive  the  governor 
at  any  time  the  governor  wished  to  call  at  the 
Red  House  on  Grand  Terre.  The  governor 
did  not  call,  I  believe." 

Captain  Roche  glanced  impatiently  at  the 
tall  black  hats  of  his  dragoons  glistening  in 
the  torch-lights.  "Well,  then!  A  cordon  of 
troops  on  the  back  plantation  roads.  The 
man  will  be  taken  before  morning!" 

"A  long  day,  Monsieur — "  murmured  De 
Almonaster. 

The  officer  turned  perplexedly.  "At  least, 
this!  Did  this  Sazarac  resemble  Lafitte,  the 
outlaw?" 

"They  might  have  been  brothers,"  said 
Raoul  languidly. 


THE  MASK  IS  DROPPED  107 

"What  did  he  have  to  say,  this  bandit?" 
retorted  Captain  Roche. 

"He  praised  the  woodcock.  As  for  the 
broiled  pompano,  it  was  superlative.  And  my 
wines — ah — you  should  have  heard!" 

"Perdition,  sir!"  roared  the  American  cap 
tain.  "It  must  be  as  I  have  been  told — half  of 
old  Louisiana  was  in  league  with  this  pirate! 
The  town  is  laughing,  even  at  this  infamy  put 
upon  the  subject  of  a  friendly  power.  If 
Sazarac  was  Lafitte,  they  gossip  that  she 
probably  fled  willingly  with  him!" 

"Not  to  my  broiled  pompano,"  mused  De 
Almonaster.  "See?  He  left  nothing  of  it  save 
the  bones." 


CHAPTER  VII 

IN  THE  OLD  HAUNTS 

"Now,  see — the  Captain!"  roared  old 
Johanness,  shaking  the  pole  support  of  the 
palmetto  thatch  in  his  truculence.  "I — the 
bo'sun  of  the  Petral — brought  him.  You 
older  fellows,  there!  He  commands  you  in 
this  affair  of  the  English  woman.  And  you'* 
— he  leveled  savage  eyes  upon  the  younger 
islanders  who  crowded  under  the  thatch — 
"does  any  man  speak  against  me?" 

There  was  no  answer.  The  sweating,  mot 
ley  crew  pressed  closer  to  stare  at  Jean 
Lafitte.  To  the  young  men  he  was  already  a 
legendary  hero  of  their  father's  day.  Under 
the  thatch  the  steam  of  the  cooking  pots  went 
up  unheeded.  A  sullen  Indian  crone  or  two 
went  on  with  their  basket  weaving  under  the 
shade  of  the  scrub  oaks  of  the  Temple  shell 
ridge  which  lifted  a  few  feet  above  the  illimit 
able,  salt  grass  prairies.  Brown-skinned, 
108 


IN  THE  OLD  HAUNTS  109 

half-breed  babies  crawled  around  the  hard- 
packed  dirt  floor,  and  the  mosquitoes  buzzed 
in  the  smudge  smoke. 

Gaspar  Sazarac — henceforth  Jean  Lafitte 
to  the  gathering  members  of  his  old  adven 
turing  crew  which  once  had  numbered  a 
thousand  men  at  the  Red  Fort  on  Grand 
Terre  reef  sixty  miles  to  the  southward — 
arose  and  looked  at  the  silent  faces. 

"First,"  he  said  sternly,  "I  want  to  know 
this  matter  of  the  muskets  stolen  from  the 
English  ship  at  the  Algiers  wharf?  It  has  a 
bearing  upon  this  mystery  of  Mademoiselle 
Lestron,  I  imagine.  The  customs  officers  and 
the  British  skipper  alike  are  in  an  uproar  over 
it.  Black  Mike— speak!" 

"An  itch  to  be  looting — that  and  the  drink," 
muttered  Black  Michel,  uneasily.  "An  Irisher 
in  the  English  crew,  who  once  had  sailed  with 
Paul  Jones,  and  later  taken  and  impressed 
into  the  king's  navy — he  wished  to  desert,  and 
meeting  up  with  Bohon,  and  John  Crackley, 
who  had  fled  from  the  navy  but  a  week  be 
fore,  he  proposed  to  seize  the  muskets.  It 
appears  they  were  unloaded  by  a  mischance 
from  the  Genaron.  The  skipper  protested  to 


110  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

the  Customs  that  the  arms  were  destined  for 
the  Mexicoes  and  not  for  this  port.  And  while 
they  quarreled  of  it,  our  fellows  lugged  them 
off.  Old  Budge  was  the  dock  watchman, 
which  made  it  easy." 

"And  you,  Black  Mike — what  was  your  part 
in  it?" 

"Oh,  nothing!  They  smuggled  the  stuff  on 
my  lugger,  that  was  all,  and  cached  it  on  St. 
Joseph's  Island.  Surely,  my  Captain,  you  will 
not  reproach  me  over  a  little  affair  like  that!" 

There  was  a  hoarse  laugh.  Even  the  cap 
tain  smiled. 

"Thirty  cases  of  new  muskets — three  thou 
sand  rounds  of  ball — who  knows  when  we 
might  need  them?" 

The  captain  looked  out  to  the  tidal  bayou 
winding  through  the  pathless  morass  to  the 
Mexican  Gulf.  At  the  water's  edge,  past  the 
scraggy,  hurricane-riven  oaks,  lay  a  dozen 
trappers'  pirogues — slender  swift  canoes  hol 
lowed  from  a  single  cypress  log.  Beyond,  at 
their  moorings,  swung  a  trio  of  red-sailed 
luggers,  with  the  smoke  of  their  charcoal  pots 
drifting  lazily  into  the  air. 

"Bohon — "    Jean    summoned    the    swarthy 


IN  THE  OLD  HAUNTS  111 

Portuguese  smuggler  from  the  throng.  "Your 
lugger — twelve  men  to  the  sweeps,  for  there 
is  no  air.  I  must  see  the  deserters  from  the 
English  ship.  The  Genaron  was  to  convey  the 
British  Mission  to  Vera  Cruz.  See  here-- 
you?  Has  there  been  among  you  of  late,  any 
man  who  whispered  against  the  American  oc 
cupation  of  Louisiana?  Not  openly,  as  did 
Captain  Lockyer  of  the  Sophia,  who,  as  you 
older  men  will  remember,  landed  at  our  fort 
with  a  royal  commission  for  me,  and  the 
king's  gold  for  all  who  would  betray  New  Or 
leans  to  Pakenham's  fleet?" 

There  was  a  shout.  "Aye !  The  British  got 
our  answer  at  Chalmette!  Who  fought  the 
Yankee  bat'ries  but  our  Grand  Terre  gun 
ners!" 

"Even  Old  Hickory  did  not  question  where 
they  got  their  skill  wi'  the  twenty-four- 
pounders  !" 

The  old  dogs  laughed  the  harder.  Rough 
shaggy  fellows  in  shirts  of  faded  green  and 
blue,  barefooted  for  the  most,  filthy  muskrat 
traps  dangling  at  their  belts  where  once  they 
had  worn  cutlass  and  pistol  before  the  presi 
dent's  pardon. 


112  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"Nothing  of  sedition,"  answered  Bohon 
finally.  "Few  of  us  dare  go  to  the  city  even 
now.  There  is  always  a  peg  on  which  to  hang 
one  of  Lafitte's  men.  Let  a  sheep  be  stolen 
up  in  the  North  parishes,  and  at  once  the 
Baratarians  are  charged  with  it!" 

"Come,"  said  the  chief.  "The  older  of  you 
with  Bohon  on  his  lugger.  The  others  to  their 
camps.  Not  a  man  of  you  shall  lift  hand 
against  the  law  for  me.  If  you  can  serve  me 
further  you  shall  be  summoned.  Come — 
Rigo!  Black  Mike— Nez  Coupe.  We  shall 
talk  to  the  deserters  first." 

They  made  way  for  him  to  the  beach.  Old 
Rigo  was  laughing  softly: 

"Old  days  are  come!  Jean — and  at  once,  a 
fair  enterprise!  A  woman — and  a  ship!  And 
down  at  the  old  isle  where  Yankees  burned 
our  fort,  I  have  pumpkins  growing — beautiful 
yellow  pumpkins!  Eh,  bien!  Perhaps  we 
shall  see  another  color  o'  gold  among  my 
pumpkins,  wi'  Jean  among  us  once  more!" 

Six  men  to  a  side,  the  lugger  crept  down 
the  mirrored  bayou  to  where  it  opened  to  a 
shallow  lake  red  in  the  warm  sunset.  Back 
on  the  Temple,  the  whispering  swampers 


IN  THE  OLD  HAUNTS  113 

scattered  to  their  pirogues.  Fast  and  wide 
the  word  would  go  through  watery  forest 
aisles  and  into  the  grass  jungles  of  Barataria. 
Never  a  customs  boat  could  leave  the  city  but 
that  keen  eyes  noted,  and  paddling  couriers 
spread  the  warning  far  to  the  most  secluded 
cheniere  of  the  deep  swamp. 

"Look  you,"  growled  the  steersman,  Bohon, 
to  Joe  Rigo,  "the  old  fellows  gathering  like 
buzzards,  furbishing  up  rusty  dirks  and 
smelling  venture  on  the  very  wind  that 
brought  Jean  to  us.  Name  o'  God! — I  am 
young  again!" 

Dusk  fell  with  the  shadowy  lugger,  its  huge 
sail  limp  in  the  calm,  moving  through  the 
phosphorescent  water,  churned  up  by  the 
sweep  oars.  Forward  the  captain  and  Johan- 
ness,  the  bo'sun,  conferred  in  the  soft  coast 
patois.  Each  cypress  clump,  every  oaken 
point  in  the  grassy  sea,  brought  a  gleam  of 
memory  to  Lafitte's  eyes.  Hunters,  fisher 
men,  pickers  of  moss  and  oyster  diggers — such 
the  denizens  of  the  "Free  State  of  Barataria" 
had  become  since  the  president's  pardon,  but 
the  region  had  not  changed — a  land  of  dying 
forests,  laved  by  the  low  gulf  tides  that  crept 


114  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

upon  them  through  glittering  salt  marsh 
channels;  of  gleaming  shell  reefs  and  tiny 
islets,  uncharted  and  unapproachable  save  to 
the  natives;  and  to  the  south  the  blue  gulf, 
unflecked  by  a  sail  in  the  lonely  bight  stretch 
ing  westward  from  the  Mississippi  passes. 

Bohon  glanced  at  the  first  stars.  Eastward 
a  dim  smudge  showed  on  the  grassy  bayou 
margin.  "John  Kelly  will  be  there — and 
Mariano,  the  Manilaman.  And  others,  Cap 
tain.  There  will  be  a  drinking,  for  three 
casks  of  wine  went  from  the  Algiers  dock 
along  with  the  arms.  And  the  English  lads, 
Captain — you  will  not  have  them  delivered  to 
the  consul?" 

"Did  you  ever  know,"  laughed  Jean,  "of  me 
kicking  back  any  man  to  the  press  gangs — 
white,  yellow,  brown  or  black — who  ever 
reached  the  swamp?" 

"Do  you  remember  when  our  men  went  re 
cruiting  to  the  Acadian  dances  and  shook 
their  gold  before  the  country  youth — a 
speech,  a  song,  a  revel — that  would  carry 
every  restless  spirit  of  the  parishes  back  to 
our  fort  to  serve  you,  Jean?" 

There  was  a  shout  in  the  starlight.    To  the 


IN  THE  OLD  HAUNTS  115 

lugger's  side  swept  a  half-dozen  canoes.  Old 
whiskered  fellows  would  not  be  denied — they 
clamored  over  the  gunwales,  and  stood  roar 
ing  their  welcome  to  the  one-time  dictator  of 
the  Barataria  coast.  A  torch  gleamed  among 
the  palmettos  as  Bohon's  men  slid  the  anchor 
to  the  mud.  Then  they  crowded  aboard  to 
shout,  to  shake  his  hand,  amazed  that  he 
lived,  eager  to  hear  of  the  lost  leader. 

But  Bohon  led  the  way  ashore.  The  one 
time  privateers  trooped  behind  the  guides  to 
another  palm-thatched  camp  under  which 
were  stored  the  stolen  wine  casks,  the  boxes 
of  ammunition  and  scattered  muskets.  The 
English  deserters,  red-eyed,  reeling  from 
drink,  looked  upon  the  party  with  suspicious 
eyes,  although  the  swamp  men  had  heralded 
Lafitte's  coming. 

"Welcome,  Captain!"  shouted  old  Budge, 
the  dock  watchman.  "I  came  with  these  lads. 
It  must  have  been  in  the  very  air  that  you  had 
returned,  for — of  a  sudden — I  had  the  notion 
of  plunder!  Look  you — two  more  lusty  sea 
men  from  the  Genaron  are  here !" 

"The  mate  laid  twenty  lashes  to  our  backs 
because  we  could  not  explain  Burke's  get- 


116  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

away,"  said  one.  "We  slid  down  the  chains, 
sir,  and  are  done  with  the  king's  shilling!" 

"Lafitte!"  cried  another.  "I  sailed  in  a 
bark  that  took  a  round  shot  from  you  once  off 
Trinidad!  Come,  my  hand  to  it  that  I  serve 
you  now!" 

The  laughter  and  the  drinking  arose  once 
more.  Clearly  the  exile  perceived  that  the 
swamp  outlaws  had  no  other  thought  than 
that  he  had  come  to  revive  again  the  maraud 
ing  against  the  West  India  merchantmen. 

He  led  aside  the  eldest  of  the  deserting  sea 
men.  "Come,  of  the  Genaron?  What  is  her 
mission  in  the  gulf?" 

"I  wish  I  could  answer,  sir!  She  sailed 
regularly,  but  she  is  stuffed  with  arms.  Vera 
Cruz  was  to  be  her  entry  port,  yet  why  carry 
arms  to  the  king  o'  Spain's  men?  We  were 
warned  to  say  nothing  of  her  cargo.  When 
the  Yankee  Customs  discovered  them,  I  hear 
the  British  consul  was  embarrassed.  Colonel 
Carr  had  hand  in  it,  the  fo'cas'le  said." 

"Carr?"  spoke  up  a  youthful  deserter  eag 
erly.  "Why,  that  is  the  blustering  officer 
who  wrangled  with  the  skipper  when  they 
bundled  the  woman  aboard!" 


IN  THE  OLD  HAUNTS  117 

"The  woman!"  demanded  Lafitte.  "What 
of  this— quick!" 

"But  the  other  night.  The  watch  was 
hustled  below  when  they  brought  her.  Then 
it  was  up-sail  and  away  without  waiting  to 
settle  this  quarrel  about  the  muskets  which 
a  drunken  supercargo  put  off  and  into  the 
Customs'  hands  by  a  mistake." 

"Sailed!"  The  chief  laid  hands  upon  his 
shoulder.  "Lads,  is  it  true?" 

"Some  dirty  affair,  sir.  Burke  and  Crack- 
ley  and  myself  saw  it.  Slave,  free  woman  of 
color,  to  be  sold  in  the  Indies,  or  whatever 
she  was — we  can  not  say.  They  took  her  to 
the  master's  cabin.  There  was  no  law  to  it, 
I  warrant,  but  when  we  lads  saw  that  the 
Genaron  was  to  put  out  hastily  we  took  our 
leave  o'  her!" 

Lafitte  swept  about  upon  Bohon,  "Mad 
emoiselle  Lestron  on  the  Genaron,  and  the 
bark  adrift  to  the  passes!  What  can  she 
make,  sir,  with  this  wind?" 

"Steerage,  nothing  more.  She  will  not  have 
passed  English  Turn — " 

"Forty  men  by  daylight  at  the  river  side! 
She  shall  be  boarded  in  mid-stream,  Bohon. 


118  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

Johanness — back  to  the  Temple  and  summon 
every  lad!" 

There  was  a  gasp  of  incredulity.  The  leader 
had  turned  back  to  the  smuggler's  landing. 
The  older  privateersmen  followed.  The  de 
serters  stumbled  among  their  wine  casks. 
Then  the  leader  of  them,  John  Crackley,  a 
long,  thin-faced  villain  of  the  crimp-gangs, 
roared  to  the  others. 

"I  told  you,  bullies,  if  ever  we  found  this 
Lafitte  there  would  be  rough  work  to  do! 
The  Genaron — burn  her  to  the  water's  edge, 
say  I — and  a  knife  to  the  mate  for  the  cat  he 
laid  on  our  backs!" 

The  messengers  paddled  off  in  the  starlight 
while  about  Jean  gathered  his  old  friends. 
And  presently,  across  the  shallows,  came 
another  small  boat,  swept  by  four  black 
oarsmen  to  the  smuggler's  stern.  A  cloaked 
figure  stepped  out  and  grasped  Lafitte's 
hand. 

"Monsieur  de  Almonaster!" 

"The  mask  is  useless,  sir!  I  came  to  warn 
you.  The  dragoons  seized  my  house-servants, 
and  bullied  them  into  confession.  Sazarac! 
The  city  shouts  with  it!  Jean  Lafitte  has 
stolen  the  English  colonel's  ward!" 


IN  THE  OLD  HAUNTS  119 

"Sir,  you  know  better.  I,  indeed,  know 
where  she  is.  Mademoiselle  Lestron  has  been 
put  to  sea.  I  take  it,  to  hush  her  mouth.  She 
would  have  spoken  something  dangerous  to 
Carr's  purposes.  What  these  are,  in  all,  we 
can  not  say.  But  the  lady  of  the  river  packet 
is  a  prisoner  on  the  Genaron" 

The  count  stared  at  him  bewilderedly. 
"None  in  the  city  know!  Carr  roars  his  indig 
nation — he  leads  the  cry  that  Jean  Lafitte  put 
his  old  Barataria  refugees  to  the  abduction. 
Half  a  dozen  expeditions  are  fitting  out  to 
search  the  swramps.  Captain,  you  can  not 
linger  here !" 

"The  Genaron—"  said  Lafitte  curtly.  "If 
she  does  not  fetch  a  sailing  wind  before  she 
makes  the  outer  passes,  sixty  of  the  Barata- 
rians  will  swarm  her  chains  for  boarding  be 
fore  daylight.  Will  that  be  answer  enough 
to  the  city,  that  Lafitte  is  here  again? — the  old 
fox  in  his  hiding-place?" 

"A  mad  scheme !"  muttered  Raoul.  "But — 
ah,  well !  For  a  woman !  I  trust,  sir,  you  see 
it  is  an  act  of  piracy  against  the  vessel  of  a 
friendly  power  in  American  waters?" 

The  exile  laughed  grimly.  "The  dice  are 
against  Lafitte,  the  honest  man!" 


120  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"Sir,  does  she  know  your  identity?"  pur 
sued  De  Almonaster  gravely. 

"Can  you  ask?  Lafitte — for  whom  her 
countrymen  have  a  gallows  built  in  every  port 
that  flies  the  king's  flag?  Come,  sir!  This  is 
man's  business!  Every  hour  counts — every 
moment.  She  will  know,  soon  enough,  when 
a  proscribed  outlaw  frees  her  .  .  .  and  turns 
away  to  face  his  ring  of  enemies." 

And  suddenly  old  Bohon  dashed  to  his  feet 
and  held  a  finger  to  the  air.  He  touched  the 
skin  with  his  lips  and  held  it  again. 

"Damnation!"  he  shouted.  "The  air  is 
changing!  It  is  swinging  northerly!  A  breeze 
in  the  river,  and  she  will  make  the  passes 
before  a  man  of  us  could  lift  hand  against 
her!" 

It  was  true.  Five  minutes  later  the  lugger 
lurched  slowly  around  in  the  tide.  The  big 
sail  began  to  lift  and  stream  in  the  starlight. 
Johanness  came  aft  cursing  the  stir  of  the 
water. 

"I  tell  you  it  can  not  be  done.  If  we  had  a 
thousand  armed  fellows  in  the  narrows  what 
could  they  do  with  cockleshell  dugouts  to 
board  a  ship  drawing  sail?" 


IN  THE  OLD  HAUNTS  121 

They  listened  to  the  lapping  water  on  the 
lugger's  side.  And  now,  from  the  oak-grown 
islet,  there  came  a  stumble  of  feet,  a  clatter  of 
arms,  and  then  a  splashing  in  the  starlit  shal 
lows. 

"Aye,  bullies!"  roared  John  Crackley.  "I 
said  if  ever  we  met  this  Lafitte  there  would 
be  proper  work  for  you!" 

The  deserters  and  the  younger  swamp 
islanders  were  swarming  out,  drunken  and 
with  ribald  cheers,  under  their  smoky  torches. 
"A-Barataria !"  one  of  the  pardoned  outlaws 
cried.  It  was  the  old  boarding  sea-yell  of  the 
Black  PetraVs  crew,  and  it  struck  with  a  curi 
ous  cold  prophecy  to  the  heart  of  Lafitte. 
Fate  was  bearing  him,  do  what  he  might,  back 
to  the  lawless  years  of  the  youth  he  had  put 

by. 

"The  devil's  hand  is  in  this,"  grumbled 
Johanness.  "This  wind — it  will  be  a  good 
ship's  wind  in  the  passes.  The  Genaron  will 
be  in  blue  water  to-morrow  noon!" 

"It  is  fatal  to  our  plan  of  boarding  her  in 
the  river,"  mused  Lafitte.  "And  the  plan 
must  change  with  the  wind.  If  we  had  a 
weather  boat  off  the  old  isle — " 


122  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

"A  boat!"  growled  Nez  Coupe.  "But  in  all 
these  coves,  where  once  we  counted  forty 
sail  and  two  hundred  guns,  there  is  nothing 
worth  a  nutshell  on  blue  water.  Bah!  We 
took  the  president's  pardon!" 

"A  ship!"  snarled  Black  Mike.  "Seize  a 
ship!  Damnation! — how  does  a  man  find  a 
ship?  Why,  name  o'  God — he  takes  her!" 

And  suddenly  De  Almonaster  whirled  on 
the  silent  leader  with  glowing  eyes.  "A  ship? 
Why,  there  in  the  city — moored  at  the  Place 
d'Armes!" 

"The  Napoleon  ship!"  shouted  Johanness. 
"Why,  curse  my  eyes,  that  is  a  ship,  but  death 
to  the  perfumed  gentry  that  own  her!" 

"The  Seraphine?"  cried  Bohon.  "Why  that 
beauty  would  sit  ahead  o'  the  English  bark 
and  laugh  in  any  weather!" 

Lafitte  was  staring  half-amusedly  at  De 
Almonaster.  "Monsieur,  the  Seraphine  lies 
in  the  very  heart  of  the  city,  under  the  guns 
of  every  fort  and  warsman  there!" 

"Well,  then — threescore  of  your  swamp 
fellows  gathered  secretly  by  the  Algiers  shore, 
and  crossing  the  river  at  midnight  could  board 
and  have  her  under  way  ere  the  port  awoke. 


IN  THE  OLD  HAUNTS  123 

Once  off  the  passes,  she  could  overhaul  the 
bark.  She  is  gunned  for  the  best  of  them,  but 
there  would  be  no  need.  The  Genaron  could 
not  fight — she  would  give  back  the  lady  .  .  . 
of  course  the  admiralties  at  Washington  and 
London  would  howl,  but" — the  young  man 
shrugged  indifferently — "the  affair  would  be 
over." 

"Over?    Monsieur,  are  you  mad?" 

"Ah,  I  had  forgotten  that  I  possess  a  certain 
interest  in  the  Seraphine!  Of  course,  I  really 
know  nothing  about  such  madness!  I  am 
amazed — I  denounce  it  much  as  I  denounce 
this  Saz-a-rac  who — a  dinner-guest  of  mine — 
is  discovered  to  be  Lafitte,  the  pirate!" 

He  took  his  snuff  debonairly.  And  sud 
denly,  with  a  shout  of  joy,  the  hairy  giant, 
Johanness,  seized  the  count's  slender  hand. 
"There — once  more!  I  told  you,  Jean,  when 
the  nightwatch  tapped  on  the  door  and  told 
Beluche  and  the  timorous  Dominique  to  cease 
gabbling  that  a  lady  might  sleep — that  this 
young  aristocrat  was  the  truest  adventurer  of 
us  all !  Now,  he  proposes  a  ship !  A  ship  for 
Sazarac!" 

The  Captain  Sazarac  in  turn  grasped  De 


124  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

Almonaster's  hand:  "Well,  then!  Bohon,  get 
word  to  the  Temple!  Choose  your  fellows 
well,  and  have  them  come  by  the  water  trails 
secretly  to  Monsieur  Berthoud's  plantation 
across  from  the  upper  city.  And  not  a  field- 
hand  nor  house-slave  must  so  much  as  have 
sight  of  a  shirt-tail  of  you  all.  No  liquor, 
there !  No  brawling,  until  we  have  descended 
by  the  old  smuggler's  road  and  taken  the  Na 
poleon  ship !" 

The  score  of  figures  crowded  on  the  lugger's 
deck,  or  wading  waist-deep  about  her  bow, 
holding  the  flambeaus  and  striving  to  listen  to 
the  conference,  raised  a  hoarse  cry.  Crack- 
ley,  the  leader  of  the  deserters,  strove  for 
dominance  over  the  younger  men. 

"Eh,  bullies!  I  told  you  there  would  be 
blood-letting,  once  we  had  the  man  to  lead 
us !  A  ship,  and  then  over  the  line  at  the  king 
o'  Spain's  traffic,  says  I!" 

At  a  word  from  Bohon  there  was  a  scatter 
ing  of  the  islanders  from  the  smuggler's  rail. 
A  whispered  conference  here  and  there;  se 
cret  orders  given;  gesticulations  of  surprise 
and  exultation,  as  the  lieutenants  explained 
what  must  be  arranged. 


IN  THE  OLD  HAUNTS  125 

At  the  lugger's  bow  there  now  stood  but  two 
figures.  The  gamester,  Sazarac,  had  placed  a 
hand  on  the  younger  man's  shoulder. 

"You  peril  your  life  and  your  fortune,  Mon 
sieur.  There  is  but  one  stake  for  which  1 
would  accept  such  a  mad  offer  from  a  friend. 
One  night,  upon  the  staircase  at  the  hotel,  I 
said  bluntly,  merely  as  a  vagabond  may  speak 
his  thought,  with  nothing  to  lose  or  gain- 
that  I  loved  the  lady  of  my  wager  at  Mas- 
pero's.  I  went  my  way,  asking  no  answer. 
The  moonlight  was  on  the  palms  and  myrtle 
...  I  could  not  well  see,  but  I  thought  some 
thing  fell  and  vanished  from  my  sight.  It 
might  have  been  her  answer." 

"Very  likely  it  was  the  lady's  answer," 
smiled  De  Almonaster. 

"Eh,  well!  Out  of  the  shadows  it  came— 
into  the  shadows  it  vanished.  It  appears  to  be 
like  my  life.  It  seems  to  have  the  prophecy 
of  my  love.  Ah,  a  curious  thing!— a  flicker 
in  the  moonlight — and  silence !" 

"I  offer,  Monsieur,  a  ship,  my  friendship, 
my  fortune — to  compel  the  lady  to  answer!" 

The  bronzed  adventurer  laughed  slightly. 
"Thank  you,  Monsieur!" 


126  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

But  suddenly  his  companion  started  with  an 
amazed  gasp. 

"Sazarac,  I  have  forgotten  something! 
Perdition !  It  just  came  to  my  dullard  mind ! 
The  plot  is  to  seize  the  Seraphim  to-morrow 
night  as  she  lies  at  her  moorings  before  the 
Place  d'Armes!" 

"Certainly  the  venture  can  not  be  delayed 
a  moment  beyond  that — " 

"Well  and  good!  But  it  is  the  night  of  the 
banquet  to  celebrate  the  plot  Napoleon.  I, 
myself,  am  to  make  a  modest  speech  of  ac 
ceptance  for  my  aunt,  the  Baroness  Pontalba, 
as  I  take  over  her  interests  in  outfitting  the 
Seraphine!" 

"I  should  say,  it  is  very  well.  Putting  back 
to  the  city  at  once,  with  your  blacks,  and  ap 
pearing  at  the  affair,  you  are  shielded  from 
all  connivance  with  what  the  infamous  Saz 
arac  may  do." 

"Ah,  but!"  exclaimed  De  Almonaster. 
"There  is  to  be  a  ball  at  the  Theatre  d'Or- 
leans.  The  youth  and  chivalry  of  the  city  are 
to  dance  there,  and  then  away  to  the  Sera 
phine  herself  to  revel  and  drink  to  the  plot 
upon  her  decks." 


IN  THE  OLD  HAUNTS  127 

"At  what  hour,  Monsieur?  I  admit  this  is 
disconcerting." 

"At  twelve  o'clock.  The  ship  will  be  ablaze 
with  lanterns  and  hung  with  ribbons!  Nom 
de  Dieu!  It  is  too  late  to  change  the  affair! 
I  could  bite  my  fingers  that  I  did  not  think  of 
the  banquet.  Commander  Bossiere  will  pre 
side.  De  Marigny,  Barre,  Pierre  Des  Trehan, 
young  De  La  Vergne — the  officers  of  the  gar 
rison  and  the  municipality — the  affair  will  be 
an  uproar  until  sunrise!" 

"Midnight,"  commented  the  other.  "Well, 
then — by  Bonaparte,  himself — Monsieur  Saz- 
arac  shall  attend.  He  will  stand  at  the  ban 
quet  table  in  the  emperor's  suite  and  toast  the 
absent  guests.  He  will  be  the  ghost  out  of  the 
dark,  and  fleeting  on  to  the  darkness  that 
awaits  him.  He  will  be  brief  in  his  role,  this 
Sazarac — grasping  at  a  flicker  of  moonlight; 
and  for  his  answer — silence." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  REVELERS  OF  THE  PLACE  D*ARMES 

IN  THE  dusky  radiance  of  the  chain  oil- 
lamps  suspended  from  corner  to  corner,  the 
vagrant  candle-seller  held  his  handful  of 
green  wax  myrtle  tapers  high,  peering  up  at 
the  iron  gallery  to  the  possible  customer. 

"Belles  chandelles!  Petits  belles  chan- 
delles — Madame !" 

The  magnificent  lady  ignored  him  with  dis 
dain,  and  the  shabby  old  figure  shambled  on 
with  its  cry: 

"Belles  chandelles,  M'sieu!  Madame — 
belles  chandelles!" 

At  the  corner  of  the  rue  Royale  and  Orleans 
just  behind  the  cathedral,  the  peddler  stopped 
and  hitched  his  cloak  higher  over  his  basket. 
The  rue  d'Orleans  was  a  blaze  of  light  show 
ing  forth  the  low  facade  of  the  famous  ball 
room.  From  carriages,  dusky,  bejeweled 
women  were  alighting;  and  across  the  cobbles 
grooms  led  horses  from  which  gentlemen  had 
128 


THE  REVELERS  129 

just  dismounted  to  wander  by  groups  to  the 
barroom  or  to  the  crowded  vestibule  of  the 
Quadroon  ball.  Laughing,  jesting  gallants, 
some  of  more  youthful  appearance  glancing 
rather  timorously  up  the  street,  for  this  was 
a  frolic  not  countenanced  openly — and  yet  the 
gentlemen  of  the  town  and  the  plantations 
would  be  there.  Favorites  and  mistresses — 
the  famed  beauties  of  the  demi-monde — and 
perhaps  a  few  better  recognized  were  lured 
to  the  Ball  d'Orleans  to  wonder  curiously  how 
brothers,  fathers  and  lovers  might  comport 
themselves  at  the  revel. 

The  old  candle-seller,  in  the  shadow  of  the 
trees  in  the  cathedral  garden  across  the  rue 
Royale,  watched  unceasingly.  Behind  him 
lay  the  narrow-paved  Alley  St.  Antoine  be 
tween  the  church  and  the  gloomy,  high-gal- 
leried  buildings  jutting  over  it.  The  other 
end  opened  on  the  Place  d'Armes;  and  be 
yond  that,  the  levee  where  there  was  a  group 
of  lanterns  forming  an  arch  over  a  carpeted 
gangway  that  led  to  the  deck  of  the  gaily- 
lighted  Seraphine. 

The  candle-peddler  looked  each  way  cas 
ually.  At  length,  from  the  crowd  before  the 


130  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

ballroom  vestibule — amidst  the  flash  of  car 
riage  wheels,  sleek-coated  animals  turning 
among  the  bright-coated  gentlemen  and 
shouting  hostlers,  there  came  one  brown- 
skinned  fellow  tugging  to  hold  back  a  spirited 
steed.  Unsteadily,  as  if  by  chance  he  was 
jerked  on  by  the  horse,  the  groom  finally  held 
up  at  the  banquette  of  broad  stones  on  which 
stood  the  idle  candle-seller.  To  him  the  groom 
muttered: 

"Monsieur  Almonaster  is  here.  He  thought 
it  best.  They  gibe  him  roundly  about  the  af 
fair  Lafitte,  but  he  protests — he  has  given  half 
his  plantation  force  to  the  military  and  the 
city  guard  who  are  beating  out  the  woods  for 
the  stolen  lady.  He  has  denounced  as  deeply 
as  any  against  the  outrage — and  he  thought 
it  best  to  come  join  the  gallants.  How  goes  it, 
Gorgio?" 

"With  the  few  of  us  in  town — well.  And  be 
assured  across  the  river,  the  Captain  Jean  will 
have  his  fellows  ready!  Be  on,  now!  You 
must  not  talk  to  me  over  long.  Only,  Teton, 
we  idle  here,  armed  and  watchful — and  a 
word  from  your  master — " 

"Monsieur  de  Almonaster  is  to  send  word 


THE  REVELERS  131 

by  me — I  am  to  hang  about  drinking  with  the 
servants  at  our  side  entrance — watching." 

"Word  must  come  in  time — before  the 
party  leaves  for  the  ship — we  must  know  that 
an  hour  before." 

"My  master  will  be  assured.  The  fun  grows 
furious  already— it  will  be  dawn  ere  they 
think  of  supper  on  the  Seraphine." 

"Be  gone!  Here  comes  one  of  the  police 
guard!" 

The  quarter-blood  groom  led  on  De  Al- 
monaster's  horse.  And  again  the  candle- 
seller  raised  his  monotonous  cry  down  the 
rue  Royale.  And  from  the  river  end  of  An- 
toine's  Alley  wandered  another  figure;  at  the 
deep  entry  to  the  Padre's  house,  midway  in 
the  tree-shaded  obscurity,  the  old  Andalu- 
sian  beggar  sank  on  the  stones  with  a  sigh — 
and  adjusted  the  pair  of  pistols  at  his  belt  to 
more  ease. 

When  Gorgio  wandered  this  way  again,  the 
vagrant  seemed  asleep.  Then  came  his  mut 
ter  :  "Perhaps,  on  the  rue  de  la  Levee — by  the 
first  market  stall,  there  might  await  a  cus 
tomer.  Thou  art  too  noisy  at  the  best  for  the 
Padre's  street,  eh— Frere  Diable?" 


132  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"Custom  is  bad  at  least,"  retorted  Gorgio, 
"but  you — the  police  will  harry  you  on  as 
well." 

"Not  with  Padre  Antoine,  my  good  friend, 
above  at  his  book,"  growled  the  other.  "Do 
as  I  bid — I  was  sent." 

And  on  idled  the  candle  man,  with  his  owl- 
cry  to  the  galleried  homes.  Under  the  thick 
arches  of  the  ancient  market  he  bantered 
hoarsely  about  the  cabbage  and  fowl  stalls. 
At  this  hour  the  market  was  little  visited  and 
few  kept  open.  A  fewT  lazy  Indian  women  and 
mulattoes  grumbled  back  at  Gorgio's  jests; 
an  early  cart  or  two  backed  in  to  unload 
for  the  morrow's  business,  and  it  was  to  one 
of  these,  on  which  a  trio  of  trucksters  smoked 
idly,  that  the  old  man  came. 

They  shot  down  dark  inscrutable  glances. 

"Pierre,"  muttered  Gorgio,  "you  are  in 
charge  of  these?" 

"In  all,  sixteen  of  us,  sleeping  about  the 
stalls,"  came  in  the  patois.  "The  police 
guards  note  nothing.  But  of  the  fellows  who 
must  cross  by  the  river,  there  is  delay.  What 
was  the  hour?" 

"It  can  not  be  set  to  a  moment.     At  mid- 


THE  REVELERS  133 

night,  the  ball  must  have  taken  every  idler 
from  the  Plaza  to  crowd  about  and  gape  at 
the  gentry.  Save  for  the  cursed  lights  about 
the  ship  itself,  all  would  be  clear.  It  must  be 
touch  and  board  quickly." 

"Two  of  Johanness'  men  are  already  en 
listed  in  the  crew.  They  report  all  well,  save 
that  old  Bossiere  fusses  about  the  tables  on 
the  deck — the  lights  and  wine  and  cuisine 
keep  the  servants  all  astir." 

"He  will  go  to  the  ball  later.  As  com 
mander  of  the  Napoleon  expedition,  and  the 
affair  in  honor  of  the  Seraphine's  departure 
on  a  next  week's  tide,  the  young  bravos  will 
have  him  in  the  whirl." 

"Monsieur  de  Almonaster's  groom  is  to 
fetch  the  first  word  to  me — I  to  Peter,  the 
beggar,  who  plays  the  sot  on  the  steps  of  the 
Padre's  house.  He  to  you  in  the  market — 
then  you  to  the  lantern  signal  under  the  rue 
Toulouse  landing.  Then  the  six  boats  shoot 
with  all  speed  from  the  other  shore.  At  the 
first  commotion  as  they  swing  aboard,  your 
fellows  rush  openly  from  the  market,  cast  off 
the  mooring  lines  and  join.  It  is  overboard 
with  any  who  oppose." 


134  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"The  wind  is  capital — although  making 
English  Turn  we  shall  have  to  pull-haul, 
doubtless.  But  who  can  pursue  save  one  of 
the  steamboats — and  by  the  time  the  uproar 
goes  that  far — Bien! — what  of  it?" 

"A  shot  from  an  eighteen-pounder  and  the 
tea-kettle  will  hestitate,"  growled  Gorgio.  "All 
is  ready — waiting  Monsieur  de  Almonaster's 
word  for  the  river  signal." 

The  swarthy-skinned  marketmen  laughed; 
their  roving  glances  went  from  the  idle 
croons  at  the  stalls  to  the  load  of  cabbages 
under  which  there  protruded  one  rusty  cut 
lass  hilt  which  Gorgio  now  frowningly  pushed 
back.  Then  he  was  on  with  his  droning  cry 
about  the  dark  streets  of  the  Vieux  Carre. 

Meantime,  at  the  Ball  d'Orleans,  the  fun 
was  rising  fast.  The  door,  the  deep-set  win 
dows,  the  low  galleries  about  the  hall,  were 
filled  with  onlookers;  while  to  the  strains  of 
a  waltz  from  Les  Amours  da  Diable  sensuous 
women  and  fiery-tempered  men  whirled  in 
giddy  mazes.  Frowned  on  by  the  aristocracy, 
and  taboo  with  the  haughty  ladies  of  the 
Vieux  Carre,  yet  few  there  were  of  the  young 
fashionables  who  would  not  steal,  now  and 


THE  REVELERS  135 

then,  to  the  revel.  There,  arose  the  quarrels 
that  led  to  the  duellos  out  under  the  Oaks; 
there,  on  an  instant,  the  scene  might  change 
from  laughing,  and  men  rush  together  in 
affray;  or  two  of  the  hot-tempered  dons  of  the 
old  Spanish  or  French  regime,  or  some  rest 
less  Kentuckians,  down-river,  would  exchange 
the  cards  that  meant  rapiers  or  pistols  at  sun 
rise. 

The  young  Count  de  Almonaster  was  in  a 
chaffing  coterie  at  the  vestibule.  The  town 
had  been  agog  with  this  story  about  him 
to-day. 

"Ho,  Raoul!"  cried  De  Marigny,  "where  is 
your  new  house  guest?" 

"Yes, — Raoul,  the  proud,  entertaining  this 
gallant  Saz-a-rac!  Better  you  had  counted 
the  family  silver  ere  you  put  him  to  bed! 
They  say  Lafitte  put  out  from  your  hospital^ 
ity  to  the  Rarataria  swamps — and  at  once  a 
lady  disappears  from  her  hotel!" 

"I  am  just  back  from  a  search  myself.  It 
was  a  shabby  trick,  but — " 

The  laughing  gallants  crowded  nearer. 
"Lafitte  turns  up,  and  at  once  Louisiana  is  in 
an  uproar!  The  British  consul  fumes,  and 


136  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

Colonel  Carr  denounces.  His  lady  may  well 
be  in  the  tropics  within  a  week!" 

"Bah !"  shouted  the  Chevelier  de  Montrieul, 
"here  is  Alderman  Dominique,  who  was  once 
buccaneer  himself!  I  say,  we  are  unworthy 
gallants!  Under  the  Spanish  governors  we 
would  all  be  out  seeking  to  rescue  the  lady 
ourselves,  rather  than  leave  such  romance  to 
the  authorities." 

De  Marigny  twigged  Raoul's  laced  cuff: 
"Come,  we  have  a  new  beauty.  I  shall  intro 
duce  you  for  one  of  the  new  contre-danses 
Anglais." 

"I,"  retorted  Raoul  reservedly,  "do  not 
dance  here  as  you  know." 

"Why  so  haughty?  A  round,  and  we  are 
all  off  to  the  Seraphine." 

Raoul  started.  This  would  never  do;  the 
conspirators  must  seize  the  clipper  before  the 
party  assembled  on  her  decks.  He  was  re 
lieved  to  see  Captain  Bossiere — already  chos 
en  to  command — come  on  smiling,  waving  a 
hand  to  the  merrymakers. 

"Messieurs!  Is  it  not  enough  here?  We 
shall  make  a  long  night  on  the  Seraphine  and 
discuss  affairs.  Ah,  Monsieur  Dominique,  I 


THE  REVELERS  137 

am  glad  you  are  with  us!  And  Monsieur  de 
Almonaster,  who  has  been  won  over  at  last  to 
support  the  Napoleon  expedition!" 

Many  curious  and  admiring  eyes,  indeed, 
were  leveled  on  the  tall,  bronzed  young  man 
who  followed  to  the  bar.  Old  Dominique 
winked  again  at  him.  A  buzz  of  talk  ran 
around  concerning  these  two  who  surely  must 
know  something  of  the  affair  Lafitte  which 
they  chose  not  to  disclose  to  the  authorities. 

De  Marigny  shouted  good-humoredly  to 
Raoul. 

"We  are  discussing  the  flag,  Monsieur!  A 
flag  for  the  Seraphim!  La  Barre  insists  it 
will  not  be  good  taste  to  fly  the  American  col 
ors  now,  with  England  and  the  United  States 
at  peace.  Under  what  flag,  Captain  Bossiere, 
do  we  put  to  sea?" 

Good  Captain  Bossiere  pulled  his  whiskers 
and  beamed  on  the  laughing  gallants.  "That 
is  to  be  settled.  Also,  to-night,  who  is  to  be 
second  in  command." 

"And  third!" 

"And  fourth!" 

"And,"  bawled  another  youth,  "I  trust  to  be 
at  least  a  midshipman !" 


138  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

The  flushed  and  merry  Creole  blades  gath 
ered  closer.  The  costliest  champagnes  were 
spilling  over  bar  and  tables.  Under  the  glitter 
of  the  crystal  lamps,  where  the  press  was 
deepest,  Captain  Bossiere  perspired  and  tried, 
in  vain,  to  address  them.  From  this  laughing 
melee  Dominique,  the  alderman,  velvet-clad 
and  rotund,  found  way  and  came  to  De  Al- 
monaster's  side. 

"And  to-night,"  he  muttered,  "I  wander 
about,  a  respectable  official  of  the  city — and 
the  sea  is  calling.  As  to  Jean,"  he  said  with 
pointed  abruptness:  "what  do  you  know, 
Monsieur?" 

The  young  aristocrat  could  not  be  sure  of 
how  much  the  city  conspirators  had  imparted 
to  the  complacent  Dominique.  He  therefore 
shrugged  indifferently:  "The  old  fox  is  on 
familiar  trails,  Monsieur  Dominique — do  you 
know  of  any  reason  for  absenting  yourself 
to-night?" 

"Eh?"  queried  the  alderman  darkly.  Then, 
a  hand  on  his  shoulder.  Jarvis,  the  portrait- 
painter  of  the  Vieux  Carre,  for  once  cleanly 
arrayed  in  velvet,  beruffled  stock  and  a  high 
hat!  Jarvis,  incredibly  sober.  Nodding  to 


THE  REVELERS  139 

Alderman  Dominique,  he  drew  Raoul 
aside. 

"The  fools  found  I  was  right,  eh?  A  lady 
stolen  from  our  streets — and  this  Sazarac  of 
the  packets  is  my  old  captain."  He  smiled 
with  some  twitching  pathos  about  his  nervous 
lips.  "Jean — and  my  lady.  Ah,  one  might 
have  guessed!"  He  stopped  abruptly. 

"What  is  it,  Jarvis?"  Raoul  stared  at  him. 
Plainly,  he  knew  nothing  of  Mademoiselle 
Lestron's  disappearance  upon  the  English 
bark,  to-night  slowly  beating  a  way  out  the 
Belize  Pass  to  the  open  gulf. 

"Sober,"  muttered  the  jester.  "That  is  it. 
I  have  vowed  to  keep  sober  for  her  sake  from 
half-past  eleven  to  quite  one  o'clock  ...  it 
was  about  the  hour  of  the  camellia.  Ah — to 
a  staircase  fellow  in  the  moonlight!" 

His  friend  laughed  curiously,  but  without 
understanding.  "Every  night" — continued 
Jarvis — "half-past  eleven  to  one.  It  is  a  dis 
astrous  intermission,  however.  I  have  to 
arrange  all  my  hours,  both  at  the  studio  and 
the  grog  shops.  Romance  should  keep  better 
hours."  He  sighed:  "Love  has  come  like  a 
flame  to  my  darkness,  Monsieur!  I — who 


140  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

would  have  laid  my  dull  head  as  a  stone 
among  the  other  cobbles  for  her  footstep — 
and  asked  nothing!  She  has  gone  .  .  . 
they  whisper,  willingly,  perhaps,  with  him. 
Ah,  to  play  the  part  of  Sazarac — one  hour!" 

"What  are  you  driving  at?"  queried  Raoul. 

"This  Sazarac — "  muttered  Jarvis.  "I  re 
gret  he  was  not  himself.  I  would  have  had  an 
affair  at  the  Oaks.  Can  you  imagine  me, 
sober,  well-arrayed  and  speared  through  the 
stomach  because  of  a  woman?  I  can  not.  On 
second  thought,  of  course  not.  The  time,  Mon 
sieur — " 

"The  time — "  De  Almonaster  started,  shot 
a  suspicious  glance  at  the  town's  jester.  But 
Jarvis  was  not,  apparently,  in  the  conspi 
racy. 

"To  put  aside  my  romance  and  resume  my 
bottle.  Damnation! — not  yet  midnight!"  He 
turned  impatiently  and  gnawed  his  cuff. 
"Jean  has  taken  my  lady —  Eh,  well!  One's 
friend  is  one's  friend!" 

Raoul  watched  the  mountebank's  drawn 
hungry  face  at  the  end  of  the  crowded  bar. 
Then  he  wandered  to  the  street  vestibule. 
The  time  for  the  attack  must  be  approaching. 


THE  REVELERS  141 

Somewhere  along  the  west  bank  of  the  Missis 
sippi,  but  a  few  miles  above,  the  Baratarians 
must  be  gathered  for  the  embarkation  and 
the  silent  drift  down-stream.  Now  that  he 
had  time  to  think  soberly  of  it,  Raoul's  mind 
stumbled  over  the  uncertainties  of  the  mad 
venture.  He  knew  that,  about  the  city,  two 
score  of  adventurers  had  armed  and  awaited 
secretly  to  aid  the  men  of  Johanness  and  Nez 
Coupe  from  the  deep  swamp.  Seizing  the 
unguarded  ship  at  her  moorings,  even  with 
the  revel  about  her,  would  not  be  difficult. 
It  was  the  next  step  when  an  unfavoring 
wind  might  leave  the  Seraphim  helpless  and 
adrift  in  the  lower  reaches  of  the  river. 

De  Almonaster  watched  the  faces  of  his 
familiars  about  the  ballroom.  He  had  been 
chaffed  enough  for  his  entertainment  of  the 
mysterious  Sazarac  out  of  the  West.  But  even 
now  the  heedless  youth  were  forgetting  it. 
The  affair  Lafitte  was  being  left  to  the  author 
ities.  The  British  Colonel  Carr  had  already 
been  courteously  rejected  from  gentlemen's 
company;  the  gentry,  while  most  of  them  had 
but  the  merest  hearsay  about  what  the  miss 
ing  gamester,  Sazarac,  might  have  intended 


142  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

concerning  Mademoiselle  Lestron,  could  not 
endure  Carr's  infamous  jest  at  Maspero's 
gaming-room.  They  believed,  indeed,  that 
the  lady  had  fled  of  her  own  accord  with  the 
adventurer  of  the  river  packet,  whom  ru 
mor  said  was  Jean  Lafitte.  Eh,  bien!  It  was 
not  the  first  affair  of  women  for  Lafitte  .  . 
there  was  the  old  story  of  the  governor's  lady 
when  the  Grand  Terre  chieftain  was  at  his 
power. 

Raoul  saw,  in  the  barroom,  a  score  of  toss 
ing  glasses  upraised  to  some  speech  that  Bos- 
siere  had  concluded. 

"The  Seraphine,"  a  dozen  voices  shouted, 
"and  to  the  unknown  flag  she  flies !" 

The  goblets  clinked  and  broke;  the  air  was 
a  spray  of  crystal  and  champagne  bubbles; 
then  the  laughing  groups  scattered.  But 
about  Captain  Bossiere  flushed  youths  clam 
ored  on. 

"Devil  take  the  dances!  Monsieur  Girod's 
banquet  awaits  us  on  the  Seraphine.  Let's 
finish  the  night  there." 

And  a  score  of  young  men  took  up  the  cry. 
De  Marigny  came  crowding  to  Raoul's  side. 
"Come,  there!  You — Felix,  La  Barre — all  of 


THE  REVELERS  143 

you!  You  can  dance  on  the  decks — but  no 
women,  mind!  This  is  a  secret  session  of  the 
Napoleon  plot!" 

"Yes,  and  you  with  us,  De  Almonaster! 
You  are  a  third  backer  of  the  enterprise  since 
you  took  over  the  baroness'  interests." 

De  Almonaster  started  as  the  jesting  groups 
closed  about  him.  It  was  but  eleven  o'clock ! 
The  conspirators  across  the  river  would  never 
dream  that  the  gentlemen-adventurers  would 
quit  the  ball  so  early!  He  began  to  protest  as 
the  youths  streamed  to  the  street.  But  one 
glance  at  the  gold-laced  hat  of  the  Sera- 
phine's  commander  now  leading  the  way,  and 
Raoul  whirled  back  and  to  the  courtyard 
where  the  servants  awaited. 

At  his  low  hail  his  groom  came  watchfully. 
"Teton,  the  ball  is  breaking  up!  With  all 
speed  the  word  to  the  market!" 

The  octoroon  vanished  silently.  Raoul 
turned  back  through  the  ballroom,  his  heart 
beating  wildly.  He  wondered  if  any  saw  his 
perturbation.  It  was  too  late  to  warn  the 
Baratarians  that  the  plans  had  changed.  Al 
ready,  far  across  the  rue  Royale  past  the  ca 
thedral  to  the  Place  d'Armes,  the  aristocrats 


144  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

were  trooping,  unarmed,  save  for  their  swords 
of  fashion,  to  encounter  unsuspectingly  the 
desperate  renegades  of  Lafitte  summoned 
again  from  their  deep  swamp  refuges. 

"Madness!"  the  young  man  muttered. 
"They  are  ascending  the  gangway!  The  plot 
is  lost!  Sazarac  will  not  dare  lead  his  swamp 
bandits  to  face  the  gentlemen  of  the  city  al 
ready  at  their  banquet  seats !" 

He  lingered  irresolutely  and  then  went  to 
the  Plaza.  If  he  could  find  one  of  the  spies 
who  had  been  all  evening  watching  the  course 
of  events  at  the  revel  and  passing  the  word, 
mouth  to  mouth,  out  to  the  upper  levee  so 
that  the  Baratarians  across  the  river  might 
be  apprised,  he  could,  even  yet,  ward  off  a 
disastrous  failure. 

But  nowhere  did  he  find  one  whom  he 
could  trust  as  being  in  the  conspiracy.  The 
groups  of  idling  marketmen  had  scattered 
from  the  stalls. 

The  crowd  on  the  rue  de  la  Levee,  gathered 
to  watch  this  outdoor  revel  of  the  gentlemen- 
adventurers  of  the  Napoleon  ship,  was  thick 
ening.  Along  the  roped  path  between  these 
onlookers  the  gold  hat  of  Captain  Bossiere 


THE  REVELERS  145 

moved  with  the  gallants  cheering  in  his  wake. 
The  gay  rosettes  and  lanterns  festooning  the 
ship's  rigging  reflected  upon  the  yellow 
flood  murmuring  along  her  side. 

"I  must  be  seen  with  them,"  murmured  De 
Almonaster.  "It  is  a  sorry  joke.  Sazarac 
dare  not  face  this  revel  to  seize  a  ship — no, 
not  for  all  his  loves !" 

He  found  his  place  to  the  right  of  Com 
mander  Bossiere.  De  Marigny  had  started 
a  song  of  the  day  among  the  flushed  youths 
near  him : 

"Mo  Vaimin  vous 

Comme  cochon  aimin  la  boue!" 

"Ah!"  shouted  one,  catching  sight  of  De  Al 
monaster;  and  he  translated  the  doggerel  for 
a  young  American  ensign.  "  'I  love  you  as  a 
little  pig  loves  the  mud!'  It  must  be  Raoul, 
seeing  that  he  loves  the  Barataria  swamps." 

Raoul  smiled;  but  his  glance  was  out  from 
the  quarter-deck  awnings  to  the  yellow,  si 
lent  flood  of  the  mighty  river.  Big  honest 
Commander  Bossiere,  a  real  seaman  oddly 
out  of  place  among  the  laughing  youths,  was 
unsteady  from  the  toasts  he  had  drunk. 


146  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"And  there,"  cried  La  Barre,  "comes 
another  guest  who  must  love  the  mud,  seeing 
that  he  frequently  rolls  in  it!" 

The  guests  shouted  as  another  belated  one 
came  unsteadily  down  the  carpeted  gangway 
to  the  deck.  Jarvis,  it  was,  the  town's  prof 
ligate,  whose  hour's  tribute  to  his  lady  had 
turned  to  Bacchus  promptly  with  the  clock. 
The  first  Bohemian  of  the  French  Quarter 
raised  his  hand.  In  it  was  a  staff  with  folded 
colors.  And  behind  him  marched  six  grim  fel 
lows  in  tarpaulin  hats,  red  shirts  and  the  new 
tight  pants  of  the  period,  cutlassed  and  pis 
toled,  who,  without  word,  took  position  along 
the  rail,  and  came  to  a  salute  as  Jarvis  bawled 
a  mocking  order. 

The  flushed  aristocrats  stared,  then 
cheered,  when  the  mummer  pirates  broke  to 
hoarse  song,  a  Creole  air  of  the  day: 

"Di  terns  M'sieu  Lafitte, 

Ye  to  menin  monde  a  la  baguette — " 

The  guests  seized  it  in  glee.  Another  gibe 
at  the  smiling  Count  de  Almonaster. 

"  'In  the  days  of  Lafitte  the  world  was 
straight  as  a  switch,' "  translated  De  Marigny 


THE  REVELERS  147 

for  the  benefit  of  a  young  American  lieuten 
ant,  "and,  look  you,  Jarvis  unfolds  the  pirate's 
flag.  Another  crack  at  Raoul's  new  friend — 
the  famous  Sazarac!" 

For  the  artist,  as  his  amateur  buccaneers 
roared  their  chantey,  shook  free  the  colors, 
and  planted  the  staff  by  Bossiere's  table.  A 
black  banner  upon  which  was  a  grotesque 
skull  and  cross-bones.  Even  Bossiere  was 
convulsed  with  laughter  at  the  grimacing 
Jarvis's  antics.  Then  he  uprose,  glass  in  hand. 

"Well,  then,  to  the  buccaneers,  my  good 
Jarvis!  The  old  cry:  'A-Barataria !  A-Bara- 
taria !' "  And  then  the  old  seaman  seemed 
to  stare  curiously  at  the  nearest  of  the  pirate 
mummers.  Raoul's  eye  was  on  him;  the 
young  man  caught  a  covert  glance  from  Alder 
man  Dominique.  But  the  shouting  tables  saw 
nothing  wrong.  De  Marigny  was  up  and  roar 
ing. 

"A  flag!  A  flag,  for  the  Seraphine!  A 
royal  jest  for  Bonaparte  when  we  scale  the 
cliffs  of  St.  Helena,  hale  him  to  sea,  and  run 
up  the  old  colors  of  the  free  rovers!  Ho, 
Jarvis,  this  is  a  hit!" 

A  group  was  about  the  artist,  dragging  him 


148  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

to  a  wine  cask  to  mount  and  speak.  But  sud 
denly  a  new  uproar  burst  from  them  all.  One 
of  the  red-shirted  masqueraders  had  sprung 
to  the  rail,  seizing  the  black  flag  to  wave  it  as 
he  ran.  And  his  song  burst  forth — there 
seemed  some  new,  warning  accent  to  the 
thing : 

"Di  terns  M'sieu  Lafitte—" 

Above  the  hubbub,  De  Almonaster's  nerv 
ous  senses  caught  a  sound  over  the  rail.  His 
covert  glance  to  the  yellow  river  showed  a 
deeper  shadow,  then  the  flash  of  oars.  He 
found  Alderman  Dominique  staring  at  him 
hastily.  Then,  turning,  he  heard  bare  feet 
pattering  along  the  wooden  slope  of  the  levee. 
But  even  when  the  first  of  a  curious  crew  ap 
peared  at  the  gangway  among  the  crowding 
servants,  hustling  them  aside,  the  revelers  on 
the  deck  did  no  more  than  roar  apprecia 
tively. 

"Ho,  Jarvis!  More  of  your  jesting!  Faith, 
how  many — " 

Then  De  Marigny  stopped.  Gorgio,  the 
crayfish  seller,  was  unwarping  a  mooring  line 
that  held  the  Seraphine  in  the  tide.  And  a 


THE  REVELERS  149 

huge  mulatto  leaped  from  rail  to  deck;  there 
came  the  flash  of  a  cutlass  from  another 
figure. 

"De  Almonaster!"  cried  La  Barre,  "that  is 
your  hostler,  Teton!  This  is  not  good  taste!" 

And  suddenly,  with  a  roar,  a  score  of  burly 
forms  rushed  the  rail  and  swept  among  the 
guests.  Forward  came  a  rattle  of  poles  and 
blocks.  A  shouted  order  from  old  Johanness 
of  the  swamp;  and  the  bow  of  the  clipper  was 
sheering  off  the  wharf.  A  startled  silence 
fell.  The  richly-appareled  gentlemen  were 
staring  as  the  Seraphine's  bow  caught  the 
slow  current.  De  Almonaster  grasped  Dom 
inique  in  turn. 

"They  are  here!" 

The  two  caught  sight  of  a  tall  cloaked 
figure  that  had  sprung  to  the  quarter-deck 
and  turned  calmly  to  watch  the  melee.  Cap 
tain  Bossiere  had  leaped  up  shouting: 

"Lafitte!    Ton  my  soul— the  bandit!" 

Then  from  the  barefooted  fellows  arose  the 
old  cry  of  a  decade  agone : 

"A-Barataria !    A-Barataria !" 

"Off  with  them!"  roared  old  Bohon,  "to  the 
work,  bullies!" 


150  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

The  elegant  young  De  Marigny,  in  his  eve 
ning  clothes  of  broadcloth  and  silk  stockings, 
was  lifted  and  hurled  over  the  rail  to  the 
muddy  levee.  A  sword  flashed  in  Villerefs 
hand,  and  he  was  seized  and  thrown  from  the 
deck.  La  Barre  sprang  to  the  shrouds  with 
a  warning  cry  to  the  servants,  but  he,  too, 
was  propelled  off.  And  with  yells  and  laugh 
ter  the  Baratarians  rushed  upon  the  retreat 
ing  guests  of  the  Napoleon  ship.  Overpow 
ered,  borne  back,  the  struggling  gallants 
fought,  but  one  by  one  the  brawny  hunters 
and  fishermen  of  the  chenieres  threw  them 
from  rail  and  deck.  Tables  were  overturned, 
the  awning  poles  broken,  lanterns  flared  up 
smokily;  and  over  the  battle  the  one-time 
commander  of  the  Black  Petrol  watched 
calmly.  The  pressure  brought  De  Almon- 
aster  almost  against  him. 

"Jean!"  he  whispered:  "you  dared,  then?" 

But  a  hand  clutched  frantically  at  Raoul's 
sleeve.  De  La  Vergne  was  borne  past  in  the 
embrace  of  two  lusty  fellows.  "A  moi!"  cried 
the  youth.  "Raoul,  we  are  attacked!" 

'Worn  de  Dieu!"  muttered  Raoul.  "Nez 
Coupe,  do  not  injure  him !" 


THE  REVELERS  151 

"Over  with  him !" 

There  was  a  splash  in  the  batture  mud.  The 
ship  was  swinging  wide  in  the  river  flood. 
Jarvis  came  reeling  aft,  staring  back  at  his 
late  fellow-guests  and  bon-vivants.  Already 
ahead  came  the  snap  of  a  loosened  jib. 
Johanness,  the  bo'sun,  was  shouting  orders  to 
fellows  who  were  manning  the  fore-rigging. 
At  the  wheel  stood  Beluche,  one-time  admiral 
of  Cartagena,  looking  up  to  the  break  of  the 
canvas.  And  even  as  De  Almonaster  gasped  to 
see  how  swiftly  the  plotters  had  worked,  each 
to  an  appointed  station,  the  last  of  the  youth 
and  chivalry  of  La  Nouvelle  Orleans  went 
over  the  side  to  the  levee  mud. 

Save  one.  Jarvis,  the  wit,  had  seized  his 
hand-painted  Jolly  Roger  and  shook  it 
toward  the  city.  Then  bewilderedly  he  looked 
again  at  Lafitte. 

"Jean!  What  is  this  jest!  What  pos 
sessed  my  mummers  that  they  fell  upon  Bos- 
siere  and  the  lot?  And  Johanness,  and 
Beluche — nom  de  Dieu!  There  is  old  Slit- 
Nose  that  I  have  not  seen  in  ten  years!  And 
Black  Mike,  the  renegade!  And  Gorgio, 
;whom  I  consulted  for  my  maskers!" 


152  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"Next  time  you  seek  to  amuse  the  gentry  of 
New  Orleans,"  cried  Johanness,  "do  not  al 
low  Gorgio  to  choose  your  players!" 

"Jarvis,"  said  Lafitte,  "I  did  not  wish  you 
here.  Nor  Dominique,  the  alderman.  The 
rest  are  with  me — to  sea  again." 

"A  ship!"  shouted  Jarvis,  "I  howled  for  a 
ship!  Did  you  think  I  would  miss  this 
chance?  Ho,  Dominique,  we  are  seized! — • 
you  have  been  too  respectable  the  last  ten 
years,  and  I,  too  bored!  To  sea  it  is,  then!" 

The  lap  of  the  tide  was  coming  smartly 
against  the  clipper's  side  as  the  topsails  broke 
out  against  the  starry  night.  De  Almonaster 
was  staring  back  doubtfully  at  the  lights  of 
the  Place  d'Armes.  Faint  shouts  and  impre 
cations  came  as  the  gallants  were  being  poled 
and  fished  from  the  dirty  levee-water  by  their 
servants  and  fellow-townsmen.  A  fire  bell 
began  to  ring,  the  whistle  of  a  steam-boat 
started  up  the  river  past  the  old  Fort  St. 
Louis.  Then  the  boom  of  an  alarm  gun  above 
the  distant  shouts  and  maledictions. 

Jarvis  seized  a  bottle  of  cognac  from  the 
table. 

"Mo  I'aimin  vous  comme  cochon — Eh?    Ah, 


THE  REVELERS  153 

the  little  pigs  are  in  the  mud !  The  silken  hose 
of  a  De  Marigny — the  waistcoat  of  a  De  La 
Vergne!" 

He  stopped  oddly  and  approached  the  mas 
ter  of  the  Seraphine. 

"It  might  be  of  interest,  Monsieur  Sazarac, 
why  I  am  here,  why  my  fat  friend,  Dominique, 
is  here?  Beluche,  old  Slit-Nose;  Bohon  and 
Black  Mike?  Indeed,  villains  whom  I  had 
thought  long  since  hanged !" 

"My  good  Jarvis,  I  wish  you  were  ashore — 
you  and  the  councilor  at  least.  This  is  a  se 
rious  venture,  sir — well  enough  for  my  old 
fellows  who  have  no  more  than  their  skins  to 
lose,  and  none  value  that.  But  you — " 

"I  was  the  first  to  howl  for  a  ship,"  drawled 
Jarvis.  "But,  curse  me,  if  I  can  imagine  Black 
Mike  and  Bohon  to  the  rescue  of  Napoleon!" 

"We  are  to  the  rescue  of  the  English  lady," 
said  the  master  calmly. 

The  painter  stared  at  him:  "Why,  I 
thought  she — you— she  did  not  flee  with  you 
after  all?  I  may  see  her  again?" 

"It  lies  with  the  winds  of  chance.  You  are 
set  on  a  mad  venture,  sir." 

Jarvis  poured  him  more  drink  unsteadily. 


154  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

His  captain  stood  frowning  at  the  long  tables 
of  the  banquet  deck.  Already  along  them 
wild  spirits  of  the  crew  were  cracking  bottles 
and  making  merry  over  the  disordered  feast 
which  had  been  spread  for  the  gentlemen-ad 
venturers  of  New;  Orleans.  Among  them 
Johanness,  the  bo'sun;  Admiral  Beluche  with 
his  gold  cockade,  and  other  leaders  of  old 
days  were  laboring  to  restore  discipline.  De 
Almonaster  watched  the  plundering  and  the 
shouting  with  a  sudden  curious  apprehension. 
The  older  men  were  working  the  ship  safely 
in  the  broad  reaches  of  the  river  on  a  follow 
ing  wind,  but  the  others  hardly  gave  way 
before  the  under-officers. 

"Napoleon!"  shouted  John  Crackley,  the 
English  deserter.  "Eh,  bullies,  I  say  a  fat 
merchantman  o*  Spain,  up  from  Panama, 
will  make  us  all  sing  differently!" 

"You  hear?"  muttered  De  Almonaster. 
"What  they  are  thinking — with  Lafitte  in 
command?" 

"They  are  pledged  to  the  rescue  of  Madem 
oiselle  Lestron  from  the  Genaron,"  said 
Lafitte  sharply.  "Beluche,  get  among  them 
again !  Send  them  to  the  f  o'cas'le,  all  who  are 
not  engaged  in  duty." 


THE  REVELERS  155 

"The  seas  are  wide,"  mused  Jarvis.  "And 
far  to  their  secret  places.  I  wonder,  now, 
Monsieur  Sazarac,  what  a  lady  might  think  of 
me  if  she  saw  me  once  quite  clean,  well-shav 
en — and  with  my  new  waistcoat?" 

"Eh?  What  is  this  jesting?"  Lafitte  turned 
to  him  from  his  grave  scrutiny  of  the  rioters 
among  the  wine-strewn  tables.  The  painter, 
however,  had  found  an  uncertain  way  to  the 
taffrail.  There  he  waved  a  bottle  at  the  dis 
tant  lights  of  the  city.  A  single  alarum  gun 
from  a  man  o'  war  sounded  above  the  easy 
break  of  the  water  on  the  schooner's  bows. 

"Eh,  well!"  bawled  the  town's  jester  sud 
denly.  "Ho,  slimy  gallants!  Ho,  drenched 
blades  o'  the  opera ! — to-morrow,  to  celebrate 
the  sailing  of  the  Napoleon  ship  there  will  be 
such  a  scrubbing  and  hanging  forth  of  furbe 
lows  and  ribbons  as  will  keep  the  house 
mammies  busied  for  a  week!  Who  is  in  the 
mud,  now — John  Jarvis?  Mo  V  aimin  vous 
comme  cochon — /" 

But  after  the  laughter  that  followed  him 
the  author  of  it  went  aside  to  stare  ahead  into 
the  dark.  De  Almonaster  found  him  so,  his 
pallor  heightened,  his  cheeks  twitching.  The 
mimic  seemed  shaken  with  a  fear  as  he 


156  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

watched  the  bloom  of  shadowy  sail  drawing 
him  on  to  unknown  venture. 

"I  am  to  see  her,  Monsieur — and  she,  me?" 
he  said  plaintively. 

"Monsieur  Sazarac  will  rescue  her  by  force 
if  needs  be,  John." 

The  other  nodded  slowly:  "Yes — Sazarac, 
always — Sazarac.  Ah,  name  o'  God : — to  play 
one  hour!  To  be  the  poseur — to  have  the 
lover's  gesture,  the  pretty  speech;  and  to  tell 
men:  'Go  there! — Come  here!' — with  a  mere 
glance  that  they  obey!  Think  of  it!  A  Saz 
arac  .  .  .  Come,  Monsieur,  the  cognac.  It  is 
the  refuge,  the  adventure — and  the  dream.  In 
the  bottle  I  am  Lord  Sazarac — I  swagger,  I 
rescue — I  love."  He  twitched  his  friend's 
sleeve  dolefully :  "She  must  not  see  me — she 
must  never  see  me  ...  I  am  the  ragged  ghost 
out  in  the  shadows,  Monsieur — where  her  eyes 
can  not  follow."  He  turned  away,  the  sar 
donic  mood  quite  shaken  from  him.  "Below 
— the  emperor's  chair,  for  Sazarac.  The 
lady  will  come — for  Sazarac.  Sazarac! — 
who  does  not  exist  save  in  her  dreams!  .  . 
Why  should  I  not  play  Sazarac  for  her? 
What  right  has  Jean  Lafitte  to  this  gallant, 
rescuing  role  before  her  eyes?" 


CHAPTER  IX 

A  QUESTION  OF -DIPLOMACY 

A  FAMOUS  run  it  was  that  day  when  the  low 
black  clipper,  Seraphine,  made  the  last  broad 
reaches  of  the  mighty  Mississippi  on  a  follow 
ing  wind,  and  the  lookout  picked  up  the 
myriad  whirls  of  sea-birds  over  the  outlying 
march  points  of  the  Pass  L'Outre. 

"A  famous  breeze  for  clearing,"  roared 
Johanness,  at  the  wheel,  "see  the  old  bullies 
for'ard  crowding  the  rail  for  a  sight  o'  blue 
water.  Aye,  old  Slit-Nose  must  crawl  out  her 
very  jib-stays  where  the  good  wind  will  snuff 
out  the  stink  of  otter  and  mink  pelts  from  his 
pantaloons !  A  chantey,  there,  mates ! — ye  are 
at  sea  again,  with  an  oak  bottom  under,  and 
the  Captain  Jean  in  command!" 

They  had  been  a  roaring,  unruly  lot  for 
ward  until  Beluche,  as  second  officer,  with 
Bohon  and  Nez  Coupe,  had  brought  disci 
pline,  at  times  with  the  threat  of  fist  or  mar- 
157 


158  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

linspike.  The  watches  were  picked  and  the 
mess  organized,  and  the  desultory  plunder 
ing  of  stores  and  the  finery  left  in  disorder 
by  the  gentlemen  crew  of  the  Napoleon  ship 
was  sternly  stopped.  Indeed,  three  fellows 
who  had  a  set-to  with  the  rum  at  once,  were 
in  the  brig  by  nightfall;  and  a  trio  more  had 
broken  heads.  But  when  the  Captain  Jean, 
with  Monsieur  de  Almonaster  and  Domi 
nique,  went  on  inspection  during  the  second 
watch,  they  were  greeted  with  cheerful  and 
subdued  respect. 

"You  have  fetched  them  up  well,  sir,"  com 
mented  Lafitte  to  the  one-time  admiral  of 
Cartagena,  who  had  abandoned  his  service  of 
Colombian  privateering  against  the  ships  of 
Spain,  for  this  venture:  "And  keep  them  in 
hand.  They  are  sailormen,  all — and  we,  the 
officers." 

The  former  second  officer  of  the  Black 
Petrol  muttered  to  his  chief. 

"There  be  sixty-four  in  all.  Some  old  ar 
tillerymen  of  Jackson's  day  at  Chalmette; 
some  fo'cast'le  lads  who've  sailed  wi'  David 
Porter  and  wi'  Decatur  against  the  Tripoli- 
tans;  some  escaped  Britishers  from  press 


A  QUESTION  OF  DIPLOMACY          159 

gangs — and  there  be  a  score  of  our  old  fel 
lows,  Jean.  Men  of  Grand  Terre,  and  of  Gal- 
veston  Island,  some  wi'  the  president's  pardon 
— some  not." 

The  gaunt,  shifty-eyed  John  Grackley, 
stepped  from  the  line.  "We  have  made  bold 
to  ask,  sir — under  what  flag  this  ship — " 

A  rumble  of  laughter  stopped  him.  Aft,  by 
the  captain's  companion,  hung  a  stiff,  painted 
banner  already  fraying  in  the  gale.  And  by 
it,  fast  asleep,  sprawled  the  artist-jester  who 
had  painted  the  thing  to  amuse  the  city  of  the 
Creoles. 

But  Lafitte  stopped  the  levity.  "We  shall 
attend  to  that  We  are  on  a  venture  the  end 
of  which  will  be  disclosed  to  you  in  due  time." 

But  when  he  had  dismissed  them  to  quar 
ters,  old  Beluche  voiced  his  doubts.  "Not  a 
ruffian  of  them  all  but  thinks  we  are  priva 
teering  again.  As  to  Napoleon,  they  would 
roar  with  laughter;  and  as  to  this  rescue  of 
the  English  woman,  well — you  can  lead  them 
to  that,  but  it  is  plunder  that  is  in  their 
minds." 

The  chief  looked  thoughtfully  at  De  Al- 
monaster.  When  they  sat  again  over  their 


160  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

brandy  and  coffee  in  the  tapestried  luxury  of 
the  emperor's  suite,  the  younger  man  adverted 
to  it. 

"We  have  the  excuse,  sir,  that  Mademoiselle 
Lestron  was  unlawfully  seized  out  of  the  city. 
Only  violent  action  could  save  her.  She  must 
explain  the  mystery  of  her  abduction  to  clear 
us  with  the  admiralties — " 

"The  watch  already  reports  a  vessel  making 
south,"  grunted  Beluche.  "And  the  Genaron 
will  be  a  clumsy  lout  in  weather  that  this  clip 
per  loves.  The  mists  kept  the  Englishman  hid 
in  the  passes,  but  out  to  sea  we  can  pick  him 
up  at  our  pleasure." 

Old  Dominique  twirled  his  thumbs  upon  his 
stomach.  He  had  declined  to  take  any  active 
part  in  the  ship's  hurried  organization,  plead 
ing  his  gout  and  corpulence,  but  they  had 
gibed  him  well. 

"If  trouble  comes  of  it — as  it  will,"  grinned 
Beluche  sourly,  "you  will  still  be  the  worthy 
councilor  of  New  Orleans,  eh?  Pummeled 
aboard  and  off  against  your  will!  Ho,  Dom 
inique  !" 

"And  you  may  yet  need  an  honest  councilor 
to  plead  your  cause,"  retorted  Dominique 


A  QUESTION  OF  DIPLOMACY          161 

"And  you  get  yourselves  into  admiralty  court, 
the  bigwigs  will  be  hard  to  convince  this  is  not 
open  lawless  piracy.  The  Captain  Jean's 
love-affairs — eh,  well!  Can  you  get  an  ad 
vocate  to  speak  them  to  the  magistrates  of 
Jamaica,  or  even  in  Charleston  or  New  York !" 

A  lanky  tousled  form  came  reeling  under 
the  rocking  cabin  lamp. 

"A  magistrate !"  chuckled  Jarvis,  "the  rum, 
old  gabbler — that  is  the  prime  magistrate! 
Since  when  did  Dominique  mewl  of  the 
laws?" 

"Be  still,  Jarvis!"  said  Lafitte,  "this  is  a  se 
rious  council.  The  lady  of  the  Genaron  is  to 
be  rescued — without  violence  if  we  may. 
After  that—" 

"Bonaparte!"  cried  Raoul  eagerly,  "that  is 
our  one  chance  for  fame,  for  fortune  and  for 
extenuation!  The  exiled  emperor  slipped 
from  under  their  noses  and  to  sea  on  the  fast 
est  clipper  that  Yankee  brains  ever  devised!" 

"And  after  that,  pray?"  mumbled  old 
Dominique. 

They  were  silent.  The  light  breeze  lifted 
and  swung  the  silken  curtains  of  the  ship  Na 
poleon;  the  wines  lapped  slowly  in  the  rich 


162  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

glass  and  silver.  Jarvis  looked  about  at  the 
polished  teak,  the  heavily  carpeted  floors;  he 
shook  his  head. 

"This  is  a  dream,"  he  muttered,  "and  still — 
we  must  awaken!  After  Napoleon — when 
our  threescore  musketmen  have  come 
scrambling  up  the  St  Helena  crags,  filched 
the  emperor  from  their  snoozing  guards  and 
cutlassed  a  way  to  sea  again — what  then?" 

"Old  Bossiere,  Monsieur  Girod,  and  the 
other  spirits  of  this  venture,  before  we  seized 
the  ship,  had  every  point  worked  out,"  ex 
plained  De  Almonaster.  "Even  the  plans  of 
the  island  and  the  English  lookouts.  Even 
block  and  tackle  and  chair  to  hoist  the  em 
peror  from  out  the  St  Helena  cliffs  to  our 
waiting  longboats  if  needful.  Doctor  An- 
tomarchi,  Napoleon's  own  physician,  and 
Marshal  Bertrand,  his  friend  in  exile,  are 
aware  of  our  purpose  and  expectant.  Every 
thing  is  cared  for — it  is  only  for  us  to  put 
through  what  the  gentry  of  New  Orleans  had 
plotted." 

"Except,"  mused  Jarvis,  "the  lady  who 
once  looked  back  at  me  from  the  coach  .  . 
and  threescore  cutthroats  brawling  on  these 
decks!" 


A  QUESTION  OF  DIPLOMACY          163 

The  Captain  Jean  looked  gravely  off  to  the 
shimmering  sea.  Dominique  sighed.  "Ah, 
yes! — after  Napoleon — what?" 

"Hum — "  continued  Jarvis,  and  reached  for 
a  decanter.  "The  mayor  always  said  I  would 
yet  be  hanged  if  I  did  not  renounce  the  com 
pany  of  certain  pot-house  scalawags.  If  I  am 
to  be  hanged,  I  desire  it  for  the  lady  who  in 
spired  me  to  the  new  waistcoat,  and  not  for 
the  emperor  of  the  French." 

"We  must  be  serious,"  retorted  Raoul.  "We 
have  stolen  a  ship.  We  are  on  the  sea  with 
as  parlous  a  gang  of  freebooters  as  there  is 
yet  unhung.  To  bring  the  Seraphine  sedately 
into  port  again,  with  Napoleon  as  our  guest, 
and  placate  Washington  for  the  exploit,  is  a 
task  for  diplomats!" 

The  giant,  Johanness,  had  swung  to  the 
council  table  with  the  easy  familiarity  of  the 
old  privateering  days.  "Devil  take  the  diplo 
mats!  We  might  as  well  run  up  Jarvis's 
hand-painted  black  flag  and  cut  to  it,  as  far 
as  hoping  for  pardon  from  the  admiralties !" 

"Gentlemen,  the  future  of  you  all  has  been  a 
concern  to  my  mind,"  said  Lafitte  gravely. 
And  as  he  was  speaking  on,  there  came  a  hail 


164  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

from  the  forward  lookout;  and  then  Beluche, 
the  deck  officer,  at  the  companionway. 

"A  ship's  light,  sir!  Sou'  by  east,  lying  out 
o'  the  wind!" 

"She  is  not  within  hailing?"  The  master 
started  to  his  feet. 

"No,  sir.  And  we  have  little  air  to  come  up 
with.  But  the  longboats,  sir!  The  thing 
might  be  done  in  a  trice  this  very  night,  unless 
she  undertakes  to  repel  our  parley!" 

"She  will  hardly  give  in  to  our  demands." 
Lafitte  followed  to  the  quarter-rail.  The 
twinkle  of  the  stranger  showed  through  the 
moonlight.  But  both  ships  were  lying  in  the 
great  outrush  of  the  Mississippi  waters 
though  many  miles  from  the  sight  of  land. 

"Lay  to,  sir,  and  keep  her  in  eye.  We  can 
do  nothing  without  a  bit  of  wind.  We  shall 
request  the  restoration  of  Mademoiselle  Lest- 
ron  peaceably  before  we  consider  boarding 
the  bark."  The  master  turned  below  again. 

Johanness  went  forward  grumbling.  The 
light  of  battle  was  in  his  eye.  Off  this  pass 
he  had  taken  his  last  Spaniard  fifteen  years 
ago  with  eighty  thousand  dollars  to  be  divided 
among  his  crew  at  the  Grand  Terre  fort  of 


A  QUESTION  OF  DIPLOMACY          165 

the  buccaneers  which  was  not  a  day's  sail 
westward  on  the  Louisiana  coast.  And  the 
party  in  the  emperor's  cabin  heard  a  hoarse 
shout  from  the  fo'cas'le  hood. 

"A  ship,  bullies !  And  we  lay  here  with  the 
old  itch  to  be  alongside!  What  do  the  gentle 
men  aft  propose  for  her,  eh — mates?" 

Beluche  showered  imprecations  upon  the 
speaker.  There  was  a  yell  or  two,  then  si 
lence.  Presently  the  admiral  came  aft  under 
the  limp  hang  of  the  Seraphine's  snowy  new 
canvas. 

"There  are  some  hardheads,  sir.  Already 
they  are  dicing  it  for  the  first  choice  o'  plun 
der  from  the  Genaron.  The  woman,  they 
agree,  is  yours!" 

"Do  they  think,"  retorted  Lafitte  sternly, 
"that  this  is  the  time  of  Morgan  come  again?" 

The  silence  grew  upon  them  all.  Domi 
nique  sighed  once  more.  "The  English  woman 
— if  it  was  not  for  the  affair  of  the  English 
woman,  we  could  give  a  wide  berth  to  every 
thing  until  this  ship  and  crew  had  found 
themselves." 

"They  will  now — this  coming  day !"  said  the 
commander.  "I  am  Lafitte  again — not  Mon- 


166  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

sieur  Sazarac!  Irons,  and  then  the  yard-arm 
for  the  first  fellow  who  disputes  my  will. 
The  older  heads  will  not  needs  be  told.  The 
English  woman  first — after  that,  as  it  is  Mon 
sieur  de  Almonaster's  honor  to  his  fellow- 
citizens  of  Louisiana — for  Bonaparte.  And 
then—" 

"The  seas  are  wide,*'  grimaced  Jarvis  with  a 
look  at  the  master  which  drew,  in  turn,  a 
glance  of  impenetrable  reserve. 

Before  the  gentlemen  of  the  quarter-deck 
had  retired,  the  painter  of  the  Vieux  Carre 
drew  De  Almonaster's  arm  through  his  and 
strolled  the  raiL 

"Tell  me,  Monsieur  Raoul — as  you  are  in 
his  confidence — does  my  captain  love  the 
English  woman?" 

"It  appears  that  he  loves  the  English  wo 
man,"  retorted  Raoul  irritatedly,  for  the 
jester's  mood  had  been  a  gibe  and  a  leer  from 
the  moment  of  his  first  footstep  on  the 
schooner's  deck. 

"Ah !"  shrugged  Jarvis,  "and  if  she  loves  in 
turn,  it  must  be  Sazarac  of  the  packets !  Now, 
behold  me,  Raoul?  In  my  ragged  heart  could 
I  hold  love  for  anything  except  the  bottle?" 


A  QUESTION  OF  DIPLOMACY          167 

"You!"  Raoul  laughed  shortly.  "What  is 
in  your  ragged  heart,  John?" 

"It  is  like  this — "  complained  the  artist. 
"Back  in  my  studio,  my  assistant,  Monsieur 
Audubon,  is  always  painting  birds  in  his  odd 
hours.  He  paints  them  so  amazingly  that  my 
cat  died  of  indigestion,  from  gazing  upon 
them.  It  is  so  with  my  love  and  my  ragged 
heart  ...  it  must  be  a  Sazarac  who  can  play 
the  rescuing  hero  r61e.  Now,  Monsieur  de 
Almonaster,  assist  me  to  be  very  drunk  before 
I  go  to  bed." 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  LONG  CHASE 

AT  DAWN  the  Seraphine  lay  in  a  flat  pink 
sea,  with,  not  a  mile  to  the  eastward,  the 
dingy  moil  of  the  Mississippi  outpour  still 
visible.  The  canvas  hung  wet  and  limp.  The 
idle  steersman  listened  to  Beluche's  impa 
tient  comments  as  he  held  the  glass  off  to 
the  growing  light. 

"Beggar's  luck!  The  river  drift  has  been 
with  her.  She  is  all  but  tops'l  down  with 
some  capful  of  wind  that  we  never  saw !" 

"Wi'  the  sun,"  growled  Nez  Coupe,  "we 
shall  find  our  breeze." 

"Yes,  but  this  matter  can  not  wait.  Some 
Yankee  clipper  may  put  out  on  our  trail !  We 
can  not  tell  what  is  brewing  after  this  affair." 

De  Almonaster  and  the  captain  joined  them 

before  breakfast.    True,  a  topsail  breeze  came 

with  the  sun,  and  the  Seraphine  began  to 

draw  out  of  the  detaining  eddies  of  the  delta 

168 


THE  LONG  CHASE  169 

drift.  The  gentlemen  had  no  more  than  set 
tled  to  their  morning  coffee  when  the  mo 
notonous  cry  of  the  lookout  was  repeated. 
Beluche  came  with  his  report. 

"The  stranger  has  picked  a  better  wind,  sir, 
and  has  come  about,  making  sou'west,  and 
running  fair." 

"Good!  She  will  not  make  the  Floridas 
then  and  draw  us  into  the  path  of  the  traffic. 
It  will  be  a  good  ship  to-day  that  we  do  not 
haul  up  with." 

"I  have  ordered  the  chase  guns  shotted," 
muttered  the  admiral.  "It  may  take  a  car- 
ronade  across  her  bows  to  make  her  lay  to. 
Eh,  bien!  You  will  see  old  eyes  shine  as  they 
take  to  the  lanyard !" 

De  Almonaster  cried  out  exultantly  when 
he  followed  to  the  deck.  The  first  poke  of 
the  breeze  laid  the  good  ship  smartly  over, 
and  the  snap  of  the  answering  canvas  drew  a 
shout  from  the  crew. 

"Every  bully  of  them  out  to  see!"  cried 
Raoul.  "A  lot  of  schoolboys  minded  to  rob 
an  orchard!  The  first  eighteen-pounder  let 
go  will  be  music  to  old  ears,  Monsieur!" 

"And  they  may  dance  on  air  to  it,  after- 


170  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

ward."  Lafitte  turned  quietly  to  the  younger 
man.  "I  have  had  a  sleepless  night,  Monsieur 
de  Almonaster.  It  appears  to  be  largely  your 
self.  The  rest  carried  in  irons  to  Charleston 
when  the  inevitable  happens,  will  not  matter, 
but  you — your  position,  your  good  name  and 
fortune — " 

Raoul  snapped  his  fingers  laughingly.  "I 
eame  for  this— a  true  exploit,  and  with  you, 
sir — whatever  befalls  afterward!" 

"I  have  my  plans  considered,"  said  the  cap 
tain  calmly.  "We  will  not  escape  in  the  end. 
When  that  hour  comes,  you  shall  be  my  pris 
oner." 

"I,  Monsieur?" 

"I  seized  you  upon  this  ship  against  your 
will.  It  was  no  affair  of  yours  but  of  Jean 
Lafitte's." 

"But  nom  de  Dieu!  I  was  the  first  to  pro 
pose  it!" 

"That  is  why  I  shall  save  you."  He  bowed 
enigmatically.  "And  Jarvis,  the  fool.  The 
rest — well,  in  the  end,  I  must  answer.  First 
to  these  lawless  spirits  who  believe  absolutely 
that  I  am  turning  pirate  again.  Next  to  the 
admiralty  courts.  America,  Great  Britain" — 
he  shrugged — "it  will  be  of  no  consequence." 


THE  LONG  CHASE  171 

De  Almonaster  watched  the  face  of  the 
exile  who  had  been  the  enigma  of  diplomats 
of  Britain  and  generals  of  the  United  States 
but  seven  years  back  when  he  shook  the  dice 
between  them  for  the  province  of  Louisiana, 
and  gave  back  a  captain's  commission  in  the 
Royal  Navy  to  fight  for  the  puling  Republic 
of  the  West.  Slowly  the  younger  man  was 
guessing.  To  rescue  the  woman  whom  he 
loved  meant  but  to  tear  the  mask  from  his 
own  face — to  stand  before  her — Jean  Lafitte, 
the  last  pirate  chieftain  of  the  gulf — a  pro 
scribed  outlaw,  hunted  by  the  navies  of  the 
world,  dragged  out  of  his  obscurity  of  peace  to 
face  a  ring  of  enemies. 

"You  are  my  prisoner,  sir — when  the  end 
comes,"  he  said  quietly. 

Raoul  stirred,  and  then  turned  from  this 
implacable  will.  Below  he  came  upon  John 
Jarvis  shaking  the  sleep  from  his  swollen 
eyes. 

"I  have  been  forward,**  grunted  the  painter. 
"There  is  more  hubbub  than  a  ladies'  picnic. 
Bohon  and  Johanness  can  not  keep  the  dogs 
from  howling.  Old  fellows  who  have  been 
in  the  business  before  are  scouring  up  rusty 
dirks,  pistols  that  have  molded  ten  years  in 


172  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

muskrat  trappers'  camps — very  quiet,  the 
older  heads,  but  winking  wisely.  They  whis 
per  that  Lafitte  is  a  wise  fox  to  pretend  to  an 
affair  of  women  when  he  knows  of  the  fat 
prizes  helpless,  unsuspecting,  in  the  trade 
routes." 

"They  are  in  for  an  awakening,  Jarvis.  He 
does  not  mean  that." 

"I  took  them  a  bucket  o'  grog,"  muttered 
the  other.  "The  gimcrack  admiral  roundly 
cursed  me  for  upsetting  his  discipline,  but  the 
bullies  are  ready  to  elect  me  captain,  if  Saz-a- 
rac  is  too  finicky  in  tastes." 

Raoul  laughed  wonderingly.  "The  Captain 
Sazarac  ordains  that  you  and  I  are  to  be  pris 
oners  ! — to  save  our  necks  if  the  venture  fails. 
And  our  good  names,  as  well,  in  the  eyes  of 
Mademoiselle  Lestron  of  Quebec." 

"He  can  consider  what  he  wishes  and  be 
damned.  I  am  a  free  man — I  will  boast  to  the 
lady  of  the  necks  I  have  slit,  which — God 
knows  is  none!  I  will  play  the  fool  for  her, 
the  thief  for  her — I  will  stretch  rope  for  her 
.  .  .  and  I  never  saw  her  but  one  time.  She 
looked  back  and  laughed — there  was  old  John 
Jarvis,  very  drunken  in  the  broad  day,  hang- 


THE  LONG  CHASE  173 

ing  to  a  lamp-post,  his  stock  behind  his  ear, 
and  a  bottle  sticking  from  his  coat.  A  proud 
Tory  lady  of  the  Canadas,  filled  with  soft 
sweet  laughter  at  John,  the  jester." 

Raoul  looked  keenly  at  the  impassive  face 
of  the  wit  "Have  a  care.  Who  was  ever  your 
friend  in  the  old  days,  but  Jean?  You  and 
I  diligently  must  aid  his  plan.  It  is  due  him. 
Monsieur.  He  would  be  an  honest  gentleman 
in  this,  at  least." 

"Well,  a  drink,  now — and  I  will  play  the 
fool  for  any  one."  Jarvis  arose:  "Come,  I 
hear  the  bo'sun's  whistle.  They  are  calling 
the  bullies  up  for  some  matter." 

Johanness  had  tumbled  the  watches  out  and 
along  the  port  rail,  when  the  two  came  behind 
Lafitte  who  was  addressing  the  straggling 
lines.  There  was  much  unsteady  peering  and 
bending;  and  then  reprimanding  growls  from 
the  older  dogs  to  the  ones  who  had  never 
sailed  with  the  Grande  Terre  privateers  in 
the  old  days. 

"Stow  that  talk!    The  captain  speaks !'• 

"Silence,  there!"  roared  Beluche,  "and  a 
man  mutters  he  gets  the  cat!  This  is  a  ship, 
mind  you — not  a  drinking  bout!" 


174  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

Lafitte  raised  his  hand : 

"First,  men — I  have  already  told  you  of  the 
object  of  this  venture,  which  has,  for  the  end, 
the  rescue  of  the  Emperor  Bonaparte  from  St. 
Helena.  That,  alone,  will  keep  us  busied  for 
some  months;  but  I  do  not  say  there  will  be 
nothing  done  of  profit  to  you  all,  in  the  mean 
time,  if  it  comes  our  way — " 

There  was  a  yell  subsiding  to  a  grumble. 

"You  all  know  the  war  that  is  on  between 
Spain  and  her  provinces  of  New  Granada  and 
along  the  Caribbean;  Mr.  Beluche  has  as 
sured  you  of  the  chances  there,  and  he  has  let 
ters  of  marque  from  the  Republic  of  Carta 
gena  that  allow  us  a  show  of  legality — " 

There  was  another  murmur.  "Cartagena? 
It  has  been  sacked  and  burned  five  years  by 
the  viceroy!  I  was  one  who  got  away — 
singed,  it  is  true,  but  whole-skinned,  which 
was  better  than  most!" 

Lafitte  turned  to  him  patiently:  "Then  you 
know,  John  Crackley;  and  can  not  love  the 
Spaniards." 

"No  more  do  I !  But  there  are  English  ships 
about  the  Indies  easier  of  picking.  The  Span 
iards  are  armed  and  watchful  against  just 


THE  LONG  CHASE  175 

such  as  we.  I  vote  east'ard,  and  picking  up  a 
fat  Indiaman — or  anything  that  we  can  haul 
down." 

There  was  a  murmur,  some  in  approval, 
some  impatiently.  The  captain  glanced  down 
the  line  of  red-burned  and  bronzed  faces — 
shaggy  men, — all  in  green  and  red  shirts, 
barefooted  or  rough-booted;  with  here  and 
there  a  blue-eyed  Irish  lad,  a  deserting 
Spaniard  or  Portuguese — he  felt  now,  that  the 
old  magic  of  his  name  could  not  be  trusted  too 
far  with  them.  On  shore  they  would  flock  to 
him  loyally,  but  at  sea,  without  papers  or  pur 
pose,  it  would  be  a  strong  will  that  held  them 
to  order. 

"The  English,"  went  on  Lafitte  sternly,  "are 
now  the  friends  of  the  United  States.  Even 
now,  in  Washington,  they  report  that  never 
were  relations  so  good  as  under  the  President 
Monroe — " 

"Bah,"  grunted  Crackley,  "I  am  not  a  sea- 
lawyer!  Eh,  mateys?" 

"Silence!"  thundered  Lafitte, 

De  Almonaster,  by  the  rail,  watched 
curiously.  The  line  of  reluctant  privateers 
edged  nervously.  Behind  the  captain  stood 


176  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

Beluche  and  old  Dominique  and  Nez  Coupe. 
Old  Johanness,  grim  and  sullen,  stood  rub 
bing  his  chin  doubtfully.  The  older  sailors 
said  nothing;  it  was  the  younger  element,  de 
serters,  renegades  of  many  sort  picked  up  in 
New  Orleans'  drinking  shops — rapscallions 
who  had  nothing  to  lose  nor  flag  to  respect, 
who  were  dangerous. 

"Enough !"  went  on  Laf itte.  "Another  word, 
and  then  Johanness  will  dismiss  you.  But 
first,  take  your  warning — I  am  Captain  Saz- 
arac  of  the  Seraphine.  In  her  own  good  time 
the  ship  will  fly  a  flag — and  that  is  the  busi 
ness  of  wiser  heads  than  yours !  And  now,  as 
to  that  ship  we  are  overhauling — it  is  a  matter 
of  private  business  in  this  case.  A  lady  is  to 
be  taken  off.  If  an  affray  must  come  you  are 
to  fight  the  guns  or  board  exactly  as  ordered, 
and  cease  when  ordered.  And  when  once 
the  lady  from  the  Genaron  is  put  upon  this 
ship,  she  is  to  be  treated  with  absolute  re 
spect  from  you  all.  More  than  that — com 
plete  silence.  She  is  not  to  know  upon  what 
mission  this  ship  is  bound,  nor  who  is  her 
commander." 

There  was  an  astonished  silence.    The  men 


THE  LONG  CHASE  177 

craned  and  stared.  Johanness  nodded  trucu 
lently  to  them.  Beluche  turned  to  thunder: 

"You  have  heard,  now!  Then  be  warned! — 
and  obey!" 

Johanness,  catching  his  eye,  dismissed  the 
crew.  Back  once  more  by  the  steersman,  old 
Dominique  sighed. 

"We  have  a  handful.  But  I  can  guess  their 
stares.  The  Captain  Lafitte  defending  the 
English  because,  forsooth,  they  are  friendly 
with  the  Americans!  It  is  enough  to  open  old 
eyes!  Half  these  renegades  have  smarted  in 
British  press-gangs,  and  the  rest — well,  sirs, 
it  puzzles  even  our  old  fellows!" 

"It  well  may.  Lafitte's  return  dazzled  them 
at  first,  and  they  were  keen  to  be  at  anything 
for  him;  but  now  some  of  them  are  wonder 
ing  where  the  profits  lie  for  broken  bones  and 
wet  skins." 

"They  glower,  too,  at  this  young  gentleman 
of  the  rue  Royale — for  they  deem  him  part 
owner  of  the  Seraphine,  and  holding  back  the 
captain  from  any  too  unlawful  a  venture.  And 
Jarvis,  the  idler,  goes  among  them  with  his 
jests  and  ruffles  their  feelings." 

Johanness,  the  bo'sun,  had  come  aft,  cock- 


178  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

ing  an  eye  aloft  at  the  sail-spread;  he  had 
heard  the  talk  and  growled: 

"A  good  fight — that's  what  these  hearties 
need — blood  let  from  some  of  the  youngsters, 
and  a  man  or  two  to  the  sharks!  Aye,  and 
we  keep  on  fetching  yon  hull  above  the  water 
as  we've  done  the  past  five  hours  and  there'll 
be  one." 

"Captain  Lafitte  does  not  desire  an  en 
counter." 

"Burke  and  the  other  deserting  Irisher  say 
the  Genaron  mounts  two  long  sixes  and  a 
twelve-pounder;  and  below  hatches,  stuffed 
with  arms,  which,  it  was  given  out,  are  going 
to  New  Granada  for  Simon  Bolivar's  revolt." 

"Aye,  well!  I  little  think  she'll  fight  The 
Seraphme  will  flay  her  in  an  hour — we  carry 
pretty  bat'ries,  gentlemen,  as  ever  a  privateer 
could  wish!  Twelve  twenty-four-pound  car- 
ronades  and  the  two  long  nines!  She  was 
made  for  us,  eh,  Beluche?" 

"Go,  Johanness — see  how  you  address  me !" 

"Bah!  Admiral!  Admiral  of  a  nimcom- 
poop  republic  which  even  now  the  Spanish 
king's  ships  are  strangling!  I  would  not  give 
a  swing  for  your  papers!" 


THE  LONG  CHASE  179 

"Hold,  now!  I  am  the  second  on  the 
Seraphine,  and  you — bo'sun,  old  dog!" 

"And  I,  Johanness,  old  bully!  Every  one  is 
getting  too  nice  for  old  memories !  Ho,  Jean, 
himself—" 

Then  he  was  still,  for  Jean  himself  ap 
proached.  A  glint  of  humor  was  in  the  eye 
that  rested  on  the  two  old  brawlers.  Dom 
inique  sighed;  he  well  wished  himself  back 
on  the  aldermanic  seat  of  New  Orleans. 

"Johanness,  go  you  and  set  the  royals — 
the  fellow  yonder  is  sailing  better  than  we 
dreamed.  He  seems  to  have  a  slant  of  wind 
that  only  comes  to  us  in  puffs.  Go,  now — 
and  you,  Beluche,  have  a  care  to  the  steers 
man.  Night  will  drop  on  us  ere  we  know." 

Dominique  grinned  as  the  twain  departed 
with  alacrity.  To  Raoul  he  nodded  wisely. 
"He  will  fetch  them  a  turn,  sir!  But  we  never 
will  pick  up  the  Genaron  this  day!" 

The  worthy  alderman  proved  right  enough, 
for  the  wind  slipped  to  uncertain  streaks  near 
sundown,  and  in  the  last  glimmer  of  dusk  the 
pursued  and  pursuer  lay  limp  and  adrift  on 
the  warm  heave  of  the  gulf.  The  crew  had 
grown  strangely  quiet.  Jarvis,  lolling  at  the 


180  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

quarter-rail,  spat  at  a  following  shark,  then 
touched  the  Count  de  Almonaster  upon  the 
sleeve.  He  pointed  at  the  fugitive  ship  to  the 
southward. 

"She  must  know  she  is  pursued.  She  is 
making  straight  for  Yucatan — she  will  crawl 
under  the  Spaniards'  guns  at  some  river's 
mouth,  and  yell  to  Heaven  that  old  days  have 
come  again  in  the  gulf  and  the  buccaneers  are 
on  the  tail  of  the  traffic.  The  crew  has  de 
cided  that  she  should  be  scuttled,  and  every 
mouth  on  her  closed  ere  she  can  tell  that  La- 
fitte  is  at  sea  again!" 

"What  nonsense!  You  know  the  purpose 
of  this  ship  as  well  as  I." 

"The  devil  take  me,  though,  if  I  know  her 
end." 

"I  say  that,  in  honor,  the  captain  will  land 
the  lady  of  the  Genaron  in  some  port  of  the 
Indies  where  she  can  regain  her  country 
men — " 

"Ah,  what  nicety!  He  will  find  her  a  suit 
able  duenna  and  then  he  will  venture  that  he 
loves  her — " 

"That  is  his  affair,"  broke  in  Raoul 
shortly. 

"And  if  I  was   a   tall  somber  gentleman 


THE  LONG  CHASE  181 

called  Sazarac — and  I  quarreled  on  a  stair 
case  about  a  lady,  after  winning  her  on  an 
ace  of  hearts;  and  I  had  a  good  ship  and  a 
free-rolling  crew  with  fingers  that  fair  itched 
for  the  bullion  out  of  Mexico — do  you  think 
she  would  ever  see  port  again,  or  the  face  of 
a  man  to  love  again,  save  mine?  Jarvis  has 
dreamed,  Monsieur — Jarvis  in  a  brown 
smock  among  his  paint  pots  ...  if  he  was  a 
Sazarac,  quick  with  the  rapier,  ready  with 
the  dueling  pistol — a  figure  for  a  lady's  eye, 
and  not  the  ghost  of  a  man  who  might  have 
been.  You  recall,  Monsieur,"  he  went  on 
subduedly,  "the  time  I  considered  challenging 
Pierre  Foret?  My  seconds  shut  me  in  a  room 
to  practising  pistoling.  After  two  days'  labor 
I  couldn't  hit  the  window!  Monsieur  Foret 
found  a  polite  way  to  decline  meeting  me. 
.  .  .  You  recall  how  the  town  laughed,  my 
friend?  It  left  a  hole  in  my  ragged  heart." 

"Come — come !"  said  Raoul  hurriedly.  "No 
more  of  this!  Affairs  are  getting  ominous 
enough  among  us.  You  had  best  keep  apart 
from  the  crew,  Jarvis.  You  have  been  set 
ting  them  on  to  fury  with  tales  of  the  gold  the 
Genaron  carries.  You  know  there  is  no  truth 
to  it!" 


182  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"I  was  fair  to  split  my  sides  laughing  over 
the  murdering  humor  it  put  them  in!  That 
and  the  drink  I  got  among  them  to  start  their 
boasting." 

"The  devil  take  you!  I  should  report  this 
to  the  captain,"  fumed  De  Almonaster.  "You 
are  a  trouble-maker!" 

"I  must  be  amused,"  yawned  Jarvis,  "for  in 
the  end,  I  hang.  But  first  I  should  like  to 
hang  a  picture  in  the  Cabildo  for  the  city 
councilors  to  muse  over.  It  would  be  the  last 
pirate  of  the  gulf  making  wry  faces  as  the 
Captain  Lafitte  teaches  him  knitting.  If  I 
could  be  this  Sazarac  for  one  day,  Monsieur — 
one  day,  a  man,  and  not  a  mountebank.  How 
is  it  done,  Monsieur  Raoul? — I  would  like  to 
learn  the  part,  merely  for  a  day." 

He  pulled  his  dirty  velvet  cap  over  one  ear, 
rubbed  the  unshaven  pallor  of  his  cheek,  and 
smiled  plaintively.  At  dinner  the  gentlemen 
found  him  asleep  in  the  tapestried  suite,  his 
ragged  boots  upon  the  pillows  of  the  bed 
which  had  been  designed  for  Bonaparte. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  LADY  OF  THE  GENARON 

AND  again,  that  night  the  hawk  missed  its 
prey.  Even  as  the  chiefs  were  conferring  as 
to  what  trusted  fellows  should  man  the  long 
boats  for  a  surprise  upon  the  becalmed  bark 
there  came  a  stir  out  of  the  east  that  gave  her 
chance  to  elude  the  Seraphine.  But  at  once 
Beluche  had  his  sailormen  aloft;  and  with 
royals  and  staysails  set  the  schooner  lay  to 
the  course  where  the  merchantman  was  last 
reported. 

"If  we  can  not  board  before  to-morrow," 
grumbled  Nez  Coupe,  "there  will  be  the  ques 
tion  of  gunning  her.  I  smell  sailors'  weather 
coming." 

"There  will  have  to  be  some  action.  Last 
night  some  rascals  plundered  the  steward's 
stores,"  said  Bohon,  now  on  the  watch. 
"Dainties  o'  food  and  drink  meant  for  the 
gentlemen  o'  New  Orleans  on  their  quest  for 
183 


184  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

Bonaparte  have  been  guzzled  by  shrimp 
fishers  o'  the  city  markets!" 

Indeed,  the  watching  eyes  of  all  the  ship's 
officers  were  upon  the  restless  spirit  growing 
forward.  It  was  a  relief,  when,  after  the 
breeze  died  fitfully  near  midnight,  a  hail  from 
the  lookout  brought  every  one  out  upstand 
ing. 

"There — abaft  our  beam!  She  hangs  flat, 
and  the  currents  are  bearing  us  past  her  bow !" 
Bohon  pointed  to  the  starlight:  "Your  Gen- 
aron,  my  Captain!" 

The  party  on  the  quarter-deck  was  watch 
ing  what  only  a  seaman's  eyes  could  make 
out  against  the  night;  when,  on  the  silence, 
came  the  jarring  burst  of  a  gun.  The  flash 
leaped  from  the  Seraphine's  side,  and  by  it 
they  saw  three  figures  retreating  from  the 
port  carronade. 

A  hoarse  cheer  from  the  forecastle  compan- 
ionway  greeted  Beluche  as  he  reached  the 
gun.  The  crew  had  crowded  up  to  watch  the 
shot.  The  Genaron  lay  not  four  hundred 
yards  distant,  coming  up  on  the  soft  air,  her 
canvas  already  beginning  to  rattle.  Then  a 
musket-shot  broke  from  one  of  the  Sera- 
phine's  taunting  outlaws. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  GENARON    185 

Beluche  had  come  upon  Nez  Coupe  already 
panting  from  his  encounter  with  the  fellows 
forward. 

"The  scoundrels  let  go  with  the  port  twenty- 
four-pounder,"  roared  the  gunner.  "Against 
all  orders !  Bohon  was  on  watch,  but  some  of 
'em  crawled  to  the  gun.  Aye,  Grackley  it  was, 
and  Burke — they'll  smart  for  this!  Death  to 
the  man  who  fired  the  shot!" 

"The  captain  is  arousing,"  growled  Beluche. 
"Among  'em,  Split-Nose — and  you,  Johan- 
ness!  Dogs'  work — fair  mutiny!" 

The  gunner  and  the  bo'sun  were  among  the 
yelling  villains  sending  them  below  when  La- 
fitte  appeared.  The  older  men  had  not  had 
part  in  the  fracas.  When  the  officers  reached 
the  spot  the  deck  was  black  with  combatants, 
Crackley  staggered  out  of  the  press  with  a 
bleeding  head. 

"Lay  off,"  he  yelled.  "It  was  but  a  joke! 
Black  Mike  swore  we  could  not  rake  her,  and 
Budge  said  we  could  cut  her  main  mast!" 

"Aye,  and  she  came  around!"  shouted 
Burke,  the  Irish  deserter.  "No  stomach  for  a 
drubbing!  I  told  ye  it  needed  action,  mates. 
Once  on  that  ship  and  I  slit  the  mate's  neck 
for  the  lashin's  he  gave  me  aboard  her!" 


186  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"Who  fired  that  gun,  sirs?"  queried  La- 
fitte  of  his  deck  watch.  "He  shall  go  in  irons 
for  it  He  shall  face  trial  for  his  life  to-mor 
row!" 

"It  was  a  rough  prank,  sir!"  gasped  Nez 
Coupe.  "All  against  orders,  which  were  to 
lie  on  her  quarter  and  hold  till  daylight" 

"Turn  out  the  men — all."  Lafitte  stood 
with  folded  arms  as  the  crew  poured  forth. 
They  were  quiet  now.  A  young  fellow  laughed 
scaredly.  The  older  men  were  muttering 
against  the  disorder. 

Then,  on  the  hush,  came  a  shout.  Jarvis, 
reeling  from  a  coil  of  cordage  by  the  com 
panion-hood,  pointed  to  the  shadowy  bulk  of 
the  English  sh'ip  slowly  heaving  on  the  seas. 
With  a  grinding,  tearing  crash,  her  main  mast 
was  heeling  down  through  her  shrouds.  The 
Seraphine's  crew  howled. 

"Silence!"  thundered  Lafitte. 

"A  hit — a  marvelous  shot !"  chuckled  Jarvis, 
rubbing  his  hands. 

The  chief  watched  him  covertly.  Beluche 
was  bringing  the  Seraphim  to  under  the  quar 
ter  of  the  disabled  bark.  Then  his  hail  came 
from  the  raiL  There  was  no  answer  from  the 
black  bulk  out  on  the  moonlit  waters. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  GENARON    187 

Old  Dominique  nudged  De  Almonaster  in 
the  ribs,  "There  will  be  blood  over  this.  The 
captain  is  deadly  silent.  It  was  so  I  watched 
him  call  a  mutineer  from  our  ranks  on  La 
Cheniere  and  shoot  him  through  the  heart. 
He  will  swing  Grackley  and  Burke,  or — " 

There  came  a  shout  from  the  English  ves 
sel.  Men  were  already  struggling  there  to  cut 
away  the  pounding  mast  and  wreckage. 

"What  is  this  villainy,  sir?"  a  voice  rasped: 
"Against  His  Majesty's  ship  in  times  of  peace? 
Who  are  you,  sir?" 

De  Almonaster  could  now  make  out  the 
white  gown  of  a  woman  among  the  group  by 
the  Genaron's  wheel — and  his  heart  beat 
quicker.  The  crew  of  the  Seraphine  was  si 
lent.  Every  soul  knew  that  the  test  had  come : 
would  Lafitte,  the  pirate,  betray  his  identity? 

"What,  sir — are  you?"  the  voice  continued. 
"We  are  a  lawful  ship  out  to  Porto  Bello — 
the  Genaron,  Captain  Richards,  command 
ing.  And  I  add,  for  this  outrage,  you  shall 
make  account!" 

Lafitte  glanced  to  his  steersman  ere  he 
answered.  The  clipper  sheered  off  or  she 
would  have  raked  the  bark's  starboard 
counter. 


188  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"Sir,"  he  said  quietly,  "it  is  of  no  matter 
who  we  are.  Our  errand  will  speak  for  itself. 
Our  colors  when  it  suits  us.  The  errand — " 

A  shout  broke  from  the  Genaroris  crew. 
"The  Seraphine!  The  Yankee  clipper!  Aye, 
the  Napoleon  ship — I'd  know  her  in  a  thou 
sand!" 

The  English  captain  blustered  on,  as  his 
deck  officers  shouted  to  the  men  to  clear 
away  the  grinding  rigging  overside.  Lafitte 
listened  quietly,  and  when  a  pause  came,  he 
spoke. 

"The  Seraphine,  sir — then  it  is.  Her  pres 
ent  object  is  to  demand  the  lady  who  is  un 
lawfully  detained  upon  your  ship.  You  know 
the  circumstances  of  Miss  Lestron's  detention. 
I  demand  that  she  be  placed  at  once  at  our 
disposal." 

There  was  an  astounded  silence  on  the 
bark.  Then  a  woman's  cry  of  joyful  amaze 
ment.  "The  Americans!" 

The  skipper's  voice  answered:  "We  can 
not  recognize  this  demand,  sir — whoever  you 
are.  And  who  is  in  command?" 

"I  demand,"  retorted  the  chief,  "the  person 
of  Miss  Lestron  at  once  delivered  on  board 
this  ship." 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  GENARON    189 

"And  I  refuse—" 

"The  affair  is  yours.  Beluche,  sir!"  He 
turned  to  his  silent  men  who  clustered  along 
the  rail.  "Lay  the  boats  along  for  boarding. 
You,  Bohon,  see  to  the  gun  crews!" 

There  was  a  howl  of  joyful  surprise  among 
the  ruffians,  a  scattering  right  and  left,  under 
the  yeoman's  instant  call,  a  clattering  of 
knives  and  pistols.  Again  the  commander 
turned  calmly  to  the  Genaron. 

"You  are  ready  for  action,  sir?  You  shall 
have  it!" 

But  the  merchantman  was  not  as  was  easily 
seen.  Her  crew  became  a  disorderly  pack 
scattering  from  the  amidship  wreckage.  The 
hammering  of  the  fallen  mast  in  the  seas 
alone  showed  their  futility  to  resist.  There 
was  a  mutter  among  the  officers,  the  woman's 
face  was  turned  from  the  group,  pale  and 
determined  in  the  moonlight.  The  captain 
broke  to  cursing. 

"Carr  put  this  affair  on  me !  I  did  not  want 
you  here!  That  I  protested  against  from  the 
beginning!" 

"That  I  well  know,  Captain  Richards.  I 
also  know  why  I  was  seized  and  delivered  to 
you  for  deportation  which  is  more  than  you!" 


190  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

"I  know  not  who  these  people  are  who  de 
mand  you  from  one  of  His  Majesty's  ships. 
But  I  clear  my  hands  of  it  until  reparation  is 
demanded  in  the  courts, — Carr  and  his  in 
trigues  and  all!  We  can  not  fight  fivescore 
scoundrels  boarding  us.  Madame,  the  choice 
is  yours!" 

"I  take  it."  Her  voice  came  clear,  and 
proudly. 

"Remember  you  are  committing  yourself  to 
unknown  adventurers — God  knows,  perhaps, 
the  buccaneers  who  harried  these  waters  not 
twenty  years  agone!" 

There  was  a  hoarse  laugh  among  the  Sera- 
phine's  fellows,  which  the  chief  stilled.  The 
woman's  calm  voice  answered  the  other's 
heat. 

"I  go  willingly.  I  have  not  been  more  than 
a  prisoner  here." 

"A  boat,"  muttered  Lafitte,  swiftly  turn 
ing.  "Pull  away,  and  have  a  care  under  the 
quarter  when  the  lady  comes  alongside." 

"Aye,  sir!" 

The  Seraphim  rode  slowly  on  past  the  bark 
in  the  easy  seas.  Lafitte  turned  to  De  Al- 
monaster  when  the  yawl  swung  from  the 
Genaron's  side. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  GENARON    191 

"I  have  a  mind  that  you  represent  me,  sir. 
I  prefer  to  meet  her  in  the  cabin.  First  comes 
this  matter  of  that  cannon  shot" 

Raoul  glanced  wonderingly  at  the  older 
man's  stern  emotion.  Beluche  and  Domi 
nique  shrugged,  and  the  latter  muttered: 

"The  devil  will  pay  for  this  when  the  bark 
makes  the  Indies  with  this  tale.  It  must  be 
up  and  out  of  the  Windward  Straits  for  us 
before  the  English  Admiralty  is  scouring  all 
the  Caribbean!" 

"And  like  a  pack  of  cowed  dogs  our  would- 
be  mutineers  stand  and  have  Jean  work  his 
will  with  the  merchantman!  Not  a  spike 
raised,  or  a  howl  for  plunder!  Lord,  it  is  not 
like  old  days!"  laughed  Beluche  grimly. 

"The  lady  comes,"  grunted  the  alderman; 
"make  way  there!" 

"First — ere  she  puts  foot  on  the  deck — who 
fired  that  shot?"  The  commander  motioned 
to  the  bo'sun.  "Johanness !  Fetch  Burke  and 
John  Crackley!  Those  two,  at  least,  were 
recognized." 

The  under-officers  hustled  the  two  malcon 
tents  out  of  the  disorder  along  the  waist. 
Crackley,  the  Englishman,  swaggered  with  a 
confidant  leer. 


192  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

"You  fired  that  gun,  sir?" 

"I  fired  no  gun." 

"Burke!" 

"Neither  did  I,  sir.  And  a  damned  good 
shot  it  be,  I  say!" 

"Silence!"  The  captain  looked  over  the 
press  of  evil  faces.  And  from  the  rear  a 
hoarse  voice  chuckled: 

"  'E  was  no  gunner,  that  I'll  say.  Nothin' 
'e  knew  but  point  and  pull  lanyard  when  some 
one  give  the  word  the  Britisher  was  swingin' 
fair  pointblank  in  the  gun's  eye!" 

"It  was  a  wager — "  croaked  another. 
"Crackley's  horse  pistol  against  a  butt  o'  the 
gentlemen's  rum!" 

Upon  the  port  rail,  staring  off  at  the  ap 
proaching  small  boat  which  brought  Madem 
oiselle  Lestron  to  her  rescuers,  John  Jarvis 
sat  idly  gazing  into  the  muzzle  of  a  brass 
flintlock.  There  was  not  an  eye  of  all  the 
crowd  that  did  not  go  to  him;  an  evil  laugh 
arose.  The  gentlemen's  jester  peered  with 
grave  curiosity  down  his  weapon's  nose. 

"Jarvis,"  whispered  Beluche.  "I  had  a 
mind  o'  Jarvis — " 

At  his  name  the  buffoon  arose  with  airy 
unsteadiness.  The  crew  made  way  for  him 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  GENARON    193 

until  he  stood  below  the  poop  steps  looking 
up  against  the  lights.  His  blinking  eye  found 
the  Count  de  Almonaster,  and  to  him  he 
bowed,  alone,  apparently: 

"Monsieur,  I  have  won  a  pistol.  I  have  a 
mind  to  borrow  of  you  powder  and  ball — to 
find  a  tutor  who  will  instruct  me  which  end 
is  which." 

The  commander  drew  his  breath  sharply. 
The  small  boat  was  bumping  under  the 
schooner's  counter,  a  deckman  thrust  a  hook 
to  sheer  it  off  to  the  boarding-ladder.  The 
gentlemen  of  the  quarter-deck  looked  down 
upon  the  solitary  figure  in  the  space  before 
the  fo'cas'le  men. 

"Jarvis?"  said  the  master  quietly.  "You 
fired  that  gun?" 

"What  a  trick !"  exclaimed  the  mountebank. 
"To  pull  a  cord  attached  to  a  mere  device  of 
iron  and  powder,  and  achieve  more  notoriety 
than  if  I  had  painted  a  picture  for  the  Salon ! 
Amazing!  I  am  done  with  paint  pots!" 

"He  is  drunk,  sir — "  muttered  De  Almon 
aster  in  the  captain's  ear. 

"He  is  very  sober,  sir,"  retorted  Beluche, 
scowling  at  the  puzzled  faces  of  the  men  be 
hind  the  culprit.  "It  is  his  time  o'  sober 


194  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

hours — from  now  till  one  o'clock  each  night — 
as  he  says,  in  remembrance  of  the  lady !" 

The  boat's  crew  was  making  fast,  the  bow 
men  climbing  the  short  ladder.  They  stood 
back  respectfully  to  make  way  for  her.  The 
silence  grew  painfully  acute.  The  cloaked 
figure  of  a  woman  was  assisted  to  the  rail  and 
past  the  guards.  She  looked  about  puzzledly, 
as  if  not  seeing  clearly  who  first  would  ad 
dress  her. 

"The  man — Jarvis — below,  to  the  brig,  Bo- 
hon!"  The  master  spoke  low,  swiftly,  and 
with  a  mask  of  indifference  that  had  con 
cealed  his  pain. 

His  guards  threw  Jarvis  back  past  the 
crowding  ruffians  and  hurried  him  forward. 
But  as  he  was  seized  he  whirled  his  empty 
pistol  by  the  ring  and  made  as  if  to  drop  it 
into  a  bravo's  sash  which  did  not  exist.  It 
was,  indeed,  the  air  of  a  poseur;  a  ridiculous 
satire  upon  the  man  of  action,  the  pistoleer 
and  bully-swordsman. 

And  the  lady  who  looked  back  at  him  from 
her  coach  on  the  Esplanade,  now  did  not  see 
him  at  all !  She  had  gone  swiftly  to  the  after- 
companion,  with  its  gilded  panels  and  royal 
carpet  leading  to  the  cabin  of  the  emperor. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  GENARON    195 

Old  Dominique  it  was,  who  had  indicated  the 
way  with  a  rotund  bow.  As  she  tripped  down 
the  stairs  with  one  amazed  glance  at  the  ele 
gance  of  the  tapestried  walls  beyond,  the 
group  on  the  quarter-deck  descended  to  fol 
low.  The  crippled  bark  was  drifting  off  on 
the  gulf  current  past  the  schooner's  bow.  A 
bewildered  silence  held  them  all. 

At  the  companionway  the  bronzed  lamp 
showed  the  captain's  face,  De  Almonaster 
started  at  the  grief,  the  stern,  pent  sadness  of 
the  leader. 

"Jarvis,"  he  muttered:  "My  friend — Jar- 
vis—" 

"Why  this  fool's  mutinous  play!"  blustered 
old  Dominique. 

"It  was  so  that  you  could  never  return  to 
the  ports  of  the  world,"  put  in  Raoul  de  Al 
monaster.  "An  act  of  piracy — an  overt  act  of 
war  by  a  ship  that  flies  no  flag,  against  the 
power  of  England.  He  condemns  you  to  a 
part  he  would  play  himself  and  can  not — • 
Sazarac,  the  last  sea-rover  .  .  .  and  the 
lover,  Jean!"  And  the  count  added  hur 
riedly:  "Go,  now.  You  have  my  pledge  to 
aid  in  this  affair.  On  my  honor,  Monsieur — 
you  shall  be  none  but  Sazarac." 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   PARTING   OF  THE  PATHS 

DE  ALMONASTER  stepped  aside  as  the  two 
came  to  the  brocade  portieres  that  hung  at 
the  portal  of  Napoleon's  cabin.  The  other 
man,  therefore,  had  stepped  within,  and  the 
brilliance  of  the  polished  lamp  cluster  with 
its  crystal  reflectors  was  full  upon  him.  Raoul 
heard  Mademoiselle  Lestron  draw  a  sharp 
breath  ere  he  came  within  the  room ;  the  Sera- 
phine's  master  was  looking  upon  her,  his  arms 
folded  across  the  ruffled  whiteness  of  his 
shirt-bosom,  chin  sunken  in  the  black  satin 
stock  about  his  neck. 

"Sazarac!"  she  cried  sharply.  "Sazarac — 
the  river  gamester!" 

"Playing  high  again,  Mademoiselle  Lestron 
• — to  serve  you!" 

The  lustrous  blackness  of  her  eyes  was  nar 
rowing.  She  threw  the  cloak  higher  with  one 
arm  before  her  chin  as  if,  in  fear  or  some 
196 


THE  PARTING  OF  THE  PATHS         197 

curious  revulsion,  to  shut  the  thought  of  him 
away.  And  then  she  dropped  this  and  stood 
facing  him.  The  younger  man  in  the  door 
way  could  sense  that  her  figure  tensed  with  a 
haughty  command,  that  she  must  not  fear. 

"Monsieur  Sazarac,"  she  repeated  quietly, 
'This  is  a  strange  affair!  How  can  it  be? 
You — why  should  you  take  me  from  the  ship 
of  my  country?" 

"Why  did  you  come?"  he  retorted,  and  his 
somber  smile  lightened.  "The  choice  was 
yours,  Mademoiselle — even  at  the  last." 

"I  did  not  know!  The  Americans!  I 
thought  a  swift  vessel  of  some  authority  had 
been  sent  to  take  me  back  ...  to  face  them, 
perhaps,  as  one  accused — "  she  hesitated. 
"Well,  I  came  to  this  ship,  because  of  the  out 
rage  that  was  put  upon  me  in  New  Orleans 
by  those  who  feared  me."  And  again  her 
resolute  eyes  sought  to  question  his:  "Sir,  it 
was  my  defiance  led  to  that  act!  You  will 
conduct  me,  sir,  back  to  New  Orleans?" 

Monsieur  Sazarac  bowed;  his  hand  went  to 
his  silk  stock  with  a  flicker  of  amusement  as 
if  musing  what  his  neck  would  be  worth  in 
any  port  of  America.  "If,"  he  said  quietly, 
"that  should  be  your  dearest  wish." 


198  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

She  leaned  upon  the  rosewood  table,  ambi 
tiously  carved  with  the  monogram  of  Bona 
parte  by  some  chuckling  artisan  of  the  rue 
Royale.  Her  eyes  lifted  in  some  puzzle  from 
the  initials  to  the  gentleman  across. 

And  on  the  silence  there  came  a  shout  from 
the  waist  of  the  ship.  A  rolling  boast,  fol 
lowed  by  discordant  choruses  of  laughter. 

"With  one  shot  I  lay  a  ship  to,  helpless  on 
the  sea!  Oh,  bullies!  One  shot — my  first 
shot!  I — Jarvis!  Why  didn't  I  play  the  part 
of  Lafitte  long  years  ago?" 

The  muffled  cry  was  drowned  in  impreca 
tions  and  more  fo'cas'le  laughter.  Madem 
oiselle  Lestron  gave  Monsieur  Sazarac  a  swift 
measuring  glance. 

"I  assure  you — a  rough  jest  of  my  rough 
crew,  Mademoiselle." 

She  shivered  slightly.  "Lafitte?  I  recall, 
when  a  child,  that  his  men  plundered  my 
father's  home  at  La  Casa  Montana  in  the 
Grenadines — " 

"He  has  long  vanished  from  these  peaceful 
seas,  Mademoiselle."  Again  his  deferential 
bow,  the  detached  amusement  in  the  melan 
choly  eyes. 


THE  PARTING  OF  THE  PATHS         199 

But  there  came  a  stir  at  the  threshold  of 
the  emperor's  cabin,  She  turned  to  another 
figure  there.  A  slighter  man,  but  tall.  He 
too,  wore  the  evening  clothes  of  the  period 
from  the  snowy  ruffles  of  his  bosom  to  the 
low  silver-buckled  shoes.  His  dark,  slender, 
youthful  face  was  lit  by  an  unbelieving  hope. 
The  Count  de  Almonaster  stepped  nearer. 

"What  have  you  said?"  he  whispered.  "La 
Casa — in  the  Grenadines?  You  are  Louise 
L'Estrange?  You— are  the  child  of  the 
refugees  from  Martinique?" 

"Monsieur?"  she  answered  wonderingly: 
"Surely!  How  could  you  know?"  And  then 
she  stepped  nearer  with  a  cry  that  rang: 
"Monsieur  de  Almonaster!" 

He  took  her  hands,  and  bowing,  kissed  her 
finger-tips.  A  great  light  was  in  his  eyes — 
the  glitter  of  an  incredible  triumph.  The  girl 
flushed,  and  her  own  glance  went  from  one 
gentleman  to  the  other. 

The  elder  was  in  rapt  surprise.  Then  the 
impenetrable  reserve  of  his  habitual  de 
meanor  slipped  as  a  mask  before  his  face.  He 
took  snuff  gravely  from  a  golden  trinket  of 
a  box;  and  then  regarded  them  with  the  air 


200  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

of  one  who  knew  everything,  had  planned 
everything,  and  was  but  merely  watching  the 
consummation  of  his  desires. 

Louise  Lestron  cried  out  joyfully  again, 
coming  closer  to  the  younger  gentleman. 
There  wa-s  in  it  a  swift  relief,  as  if  she  hurried 
to  his  protection.  The  gamester  had  said  he 
loved  her  .  .  .  that  he  would  claim  his  pawn 

"Monsieur  de  Almonaster,  who  befriended 
me  eight  years  ago  after  the  blacks  massa 
cred  my  family,  destroyed  our  estate !  Young 
Raoul,  the  schoolboy  on  his  way  to  Paris,  who 
sought  a  frightened  little  girl  among  the 
refugees  and  charged  the  captain  of  the  ship 
that  she  must  be  sent  to  Quebec  to  seek  her 
uncle,  with  the  fullest  consideration!" 

"The  very  same.  I  went  to  Paris.  I  ... 
visited  Quebec  after  my  three  years  at  St. 
Cyr.  I  searched  in  the  Indies  ports — I  sought 
word  of  little  Mademoiselle  L'Estrange,  the 
orphaned  girl  of  the  slaves'  revolt." 

There  was  hardly  need  to  guess  at  the 
reason  for  his  search.  The  girl  turned  aside. 
The  Captain  Sazarac  bent  upon  the  younger 
man  a  look  of  odd  remembrance. 


THE  PARTING  OF  THE  PATHS         201 

"My  name  was  changed  a  trifle — Angli 
cized,  Monsieur,  by  the  family  of  Colonel 
Garr.  I  am  his  ward."  She  hesitated  and 
turned  to  the  commander  of  the  Seraphine. 
"Monsieur  Sazarac,  of  the  Mississippi  packet, 
will  know  of  Colonel  Carr.  Sazarac,  the 
gamester — "  she  had  not  meant  to  say  it;  she 
turned  troubled  eyes  upon  him.  Then  she 
covered  them  with  her  hands:  "An  infa 
mous  wager  in  a  card-room  of  New  Orleans 
— perhaps  Monsieur  Sazarac  will  know,  now, 
the  station  of  the  pawn  he  gambled  for!" 

She  drew  herself  up  with  an  imperial  scorn, 
but  at  his  slow,  deepening  smile  this  seemed 
of  little  avail. 

"You  came  to  me  at  the  hour  of  my  deep 
despair,  Monsieur — "  she  went  on  more 
quietly.  "The  night  at  the  hotel — I  broke 
with  Carr's  intrigues  from  that  moment.  And 
then — well,  I  knew  too  much  for  his  safety. 
A  discredited  adventurer,  his  commission  al 
ready  recalled  by  His  Majesty's  Government, 
plotting  with  the  malcontents  of  the  North 
west  and  with  the  Spaniards  across  the  Sa- 
bine  against  Louisiana.  The  conspirators 
seized  me,  hurried  me  upon  the  Genaron  lest 


202  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

I  disclose  the  truth  to  Mr.  Langhorne,  my  na 
tion's  consul  at  New  Orleans.  Carr  is  in  the 
pay  of  the  Spanish  king — an  agent  of  the  Holy 
Alliance  that  wishes  to  embroil  England  and 
America  again  in  war,  lest  the  United  States 
grow  too  powerful  in  the  West." 

"I  guessed  as  much,"  said  Captain  Sazarac 
absently,  taking  his  snuff  again.  "Even  before 
that  night  at  the  hotel,  Mademoiselle — " 

"That  night!"  queried  Raoul.  "It  has  been 
a  mystery — you  did  not  challenge  Colonel 
Carr  as  all  the  town  expected.  From  that 
night,  there  was  a  change  in  you,  Monsieur 
Sazarac!" 

Monsieur  Sazarac  shrugged.  Louise  Les- 
tron's  glance  upon  him  seemed  to  appeal  to 
wrhatever  chivalry  there  could  be  in  a  game 
ster  of  the  packets. 

A  camellia  from  her  hair,  thrown  from  the 
balcony  to  the  moonlit  court  ...  a  mad  trick, 
out  of  her  youth  and  loneliness  and  despair. 
She  wondered,  now,  if  Sazarac,  the  game 
ster,  had  found  a  camellia  in  the  moonlight 
...  if  from  that  hour  and  that  quiet  resolve, 
he  had  intrigued  to  this  amazing  rescue  of 
her  on  the  wide  sea? 


THE  PARTING  OF  THE  PATHS         203 

The  sea  itself  was  not  more  unreadable 
than  the  face  of  its  adventurer.  Madem 
oiselle  Lestron  winced  with  a  curious  pain,  a 
pathos  at  the  silence  between  them.  And 
suddenly  Raoul  swept  about  impetuously 
upon  the  elder  man. 

"Monsieur!  Do  you  recall  the  dinner  at 
my  country-seat?  A  confidence  I  made  to 
you!  A  memory — a  child — a  lovely  child — 
burned  in  the  memory  of  a  dreamer-school 
boy?  Paris — all  the  world  could  not  make 
him  forget!" 

The  other  bowed.  His  faint  smile  came; 
the  nonchalant  voice  flowed  smoothly  on: 
"I  am  twice  honored.  I  am  twice  the  chosen 
confidant.  Monsieur  Sazarac  brings,  with  a 
sweep  of  either  hand,  two  charming  stories 
out  of  the  thin  air.  He  understands  every 
thing — does  Monsieur  Sazarac.  He  will  now 
be  the  second  jester  of  the  Seraphine." 

"Jean!"  The  young  man  started  to  him  in 
hurt  grief. 

"I  beg  you!"  The  master's  bronzed  hand 
uplifted. 

"Ah,  Sazarac!"  Raoul  placed  his  fingers  on 
the  gold  braid  of  the  other's  sleeve.  De  Al- 


204  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

monaster  seemed  stunned  by  some  resurging 
revelation  that  he  had  forgotten.  He  placed 
his  arm  quite  about  the  other's  shoulder. 

"I  will  not  speak,"  the  flushed  youth  whis 
pered.  "I  am  in  honor  not  to  speak.  Mon 
sieur,  can  you  understand  me?"  And  he 
whispered  even  lower  so  that  no  accent  might 
come  to  her  wondering  ears.  "You  are  Saz- 
arac,  a  gentleman  who  sails  the  Seraphine. 
You  have  stirred  her  deeply  with  some  mys 
tery  of  you  .  .  .  Monsieur  Sazarac,  she  shall 
follow  her  heart  into  that  mystery  or  not — as 
she  chooses." 

The  two  gentlemen  parted  silently.  Mad 
emoiselle  Lestron  of  Quebec  lifted  wide  eyes 
at  this  embrace  between  the  packet  game 
ster  and  the  Count  de  Almonaster  y  Roxas. 
There  was  no  one  who  did  not  know  of  his 
family,  ancient  even  at  this  day  in  Louisiana, 
holding  from  the  Spanish  viceroys  before  the 
times  of  Carondelet. 

"We  were  speaking  of  an  intrigue,"  com 
mented  Sazarac  gravely.  "Carr's  activities  in 
the  Northwest,  and  now  his  purposes  among 
the  Spaniards.  You  are  English,  Madem 
oiselle,  a  Colonial  Tory,  I  believe,  formerly  of 
New  York—" 


THE  PARTING  OF  THE  PATHS         205 

"We  detest  the  Americans.  In  the  islands, 
in  the  Canadas,  three  generations  have  plotted 
against  the  Washington  government.  But 
now — "  she  stopped :  "Well,  I  realize  the  fu 
tility  of  stirring  revolt  in  Louisiana.  The 
empire  of  the  West  that  Carr  and  the  agents 
of  the  Holy  Alliance  think  might  check  the 
Republic's  power — I  have  seen  enough  to 
know  it  will  never  arise  on  such  miserable 
foundations  as  greedy  fur-traders,  drunken 
soldiers  cashiered  from  the  king's  service, 
and  traitorous  politicians  of  Washington." 
She  turned  impetuously  to  De  Almonaster: 
"You,  Monsieur,  if  any  should  know,  it  should 
be  you?" 

"A  Republican  of  whitest  heat,  Madem 
oiselle  Lestron;"  he  bowed.  "You  have  been 
led  to  a  dream  that  has  not  a  ghost  of  verity ! 
Why,  look  you!  Across  the  Caribbean,  this 
very  day,  the  rebels  are  driving  the  Spanish 
king's  men  into  the  sea!  What  can  the 
European  monarchists  hope  in  North  Ameri 
ca?" 

"I  tell  you  there  is  danger!"  she  retorted 
stubbornly.  "That  is  why  I  came  from  the 
Genaron.  That  is  why  you  shall  haste  me 


206  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

back  to  Louisiana  with  all  speed  to  let  both 
English  and  American  authorities  there  know 
that  Colonel  Carr  is  a  discredited  intriguer, 
coming  to  our  British  consul  with  false  com 
missions.  Langhorne  is  the  dupe— he  would 
throw  Carr  into  jail  if  he  knew  he  was  the 
traitorous  agent  of  Spain  and  not  Britain !" 

De  Almonaster  saw  the  recognizing  admira 
tion  for  her  ringing  words,  the  fire  of  her 
appeal,  in  the  other  man's  eyes.  It  stirred  him 
with  a  dumb  jealousy;  he  turned  aside  to  stare 
through  the  open  port. 

"Messieurs!"  the  girl  cried  hotly.  "It  must 
not  be!  Spain's  agents  are  busied  all  through 
the  West,  taking  advantage  of  the  restless 
ness.  They  will  bring  on  war  between  Eng 
land  and  America  if  they  are  not  exposed. 
They  plan,  even  now,  some  overt  act  that  will 
involve  the  two  admiralties!" 

"The  overt  act — "  Sazarac's  smile  came 
slowly.  "It  is  here — a  solid  shot  to  the  mast 
of  the  king's  ship!  We  shall  hear  more  of 
this—" 

"Under  what  flag,  Messieurs,  is  this  ship?" 

The  two  gentlemen  looked  oddly  at  each 
other. 


THE  PARTING  OF  THE  PATHS         207 

"Ah,  a  flag  for  Sazarac!"  murmured  the 
master.  "Well,  let  us  see?"  He  paused  with 
the  touch  of  a  poseur:  "The  seas  are  wide 
.  .  .  far  is  the  way  to  their  secret  places — 
but  where  is  a  flag  for  Sazarac?" 

She  stirred  at  this  high  mocking.  It  was 
as  if  he  had  found  amusement  in  her  own 
fervor. 

She  had  felt  the  thrill  of  a  renunciation, 
giving  to  her  hereditary  enemies,  the  Ameri 
cans,  the  story  of  the  formless  plots  against 
their  rude  empire  in  the  West.  She  was  still 
impassioned  with  it  all — and  the  master  of 
the  Seraphine  smiled  detachedly. 

"You  are,  in  all  honor,  bound  to  send  me 
back  to  New  Orleans,  Monsieur,"  she  cried 
sharply.  For  even  now,  with  the  protecting 
arm  of  De  Almonaster  by  her  side,  she  re 
called  Sazarac,  the  gamester  ...  he  had 
sworn  to  claim  her,  and  he  was  here,  standing 
apart  with  that  faint  irony  in  his  smile. 

"You  will  sail  at  once  for  New  Orleans, 
Messieurs?"  she  repeated. 

"Sazarac — at  least,"  the  master  bowed, 
"will  find  welcome." 

And  even  as  De  Almonaster  stared  at  this 


208  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

evident  madness,  there  came  a  step  on  the 
emperor's  red-plushed  staircase.  The  ad 
miral  of  Cartagena,  second  in  command  upon 
the  Seraphine,  came  to  the  tapestried  por 
tieres. 

"Sir — "  he  broke  in  shortly,  with  a  surly 
glance  at  Mademoiselle  Lestron,  as  if  this 
affair  of  the  English  woman  was  taking  far 
too  much  of  the  hour.  "The  bullies  are  howl 
ing  again.  They  swear  to  drag  Jarvis  from 
the  brig  and  crown  him  an  emperor  of  the 
last  buccaneers — " 

"Silence — you!"  the  captain  said  sternly. 
"What  is  this,  sir?" 

"The  wind  is  picking — "  said  De  Almon- 
aster,  turning  from  the  port  where  now  the 
royal  curtain  was  fluttering.  "Sir,  a  sailing 
wind !" 

"That  is  it,"  grumbled  Beluche.  "The 
devils  have  smelled  it.  They  have  been  wait 
ing  for  it.  They  say  they  have  stolen  the  lady 
for  you,  and  kept  their  hands  off  a  helpless 
prize  out  of  tribute  to — Sazarac.  Now — " 

The  two  gentlemen  looked  upon  the  old  sea 
dog  and  he  became  confused  as  he  saw  the 
lady's  bright  eyes  on  him  with  rising  curiosity. 


THE  PARTING  OF  THE  PATHS         209 

"Yes?"  queried  the  master  languidly. 
"Speak  on!" 

"They  wish  to  throw  off  pretense.  They 
desire  to  know  where  this  ship  is  sailing,  now 
that  we  pick  sailors'  weather.  They  de 
mand — " 

Captain  Sazarac  suddenly  interposed 
sharply.  "Demand?  Sir,  say  to  them — noth 
ing!  We  shall  lay  the  course,  sir,  without 
advice  from  the  crew!" 

"Aye,  sir."  Beluche  saluted  uneasily. 
"But  the  ship  is  coming  up  to  a  wind.  A 
course,  sir — for  the  watch — " 

"Monsieur  Sazarac  is  returning  to  New  Or 
leans!"  Mademoiselle  Lestron  laughed 
brightly  and  turned  to  look  at  him.  De  AI- 
monaster  saw  the  challenge  in  her  eyes;  it 
was  growing  to  a  conquering  gladness,  to  a 
faith  in  Monsieur  Sazarac  that  he  could 
refuse  her  nothing. 

And  Monsieur  Sazarac  bowed  low.  "To 
New  Orleans,  sir." 

"Sir!"  shouted  Beluche,  and  then  stopped. 
The  eyes  of  Sazarac  had  been  turned  upward 
to  the  open  skylight  above  the  emperor's 
cabin.  He  had  thought  a  gleam  of  steel,  or 


210  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

another  eyeball  had  reflected  the  glitter  of  the 
crystal  lamp.  And  then  they  all  heard  above, 
on  the  deck,  the  sound  of  bare  feet  retreat 
ing  hastily,  fainter  and  fainter. 

"There  was  a  spy  from  the  fo'cas'le,"  mut 
tered  Beluche.  "They  wished  to  know  .  .  . 
Perdition!  You  can  not  mean  New  Orleans! 
Crackley  has  bullied  them  with  this;  that, 
once  aboard,  the  English  woman  would  rule 
this  ship !" 

"You  will  go  forward,  sir,"  returned  the 
master  quietly.  "The  fellow  who  laid  above 
this  cabin  listening, — you  will  find  him,  and 
lay  him  in  double  irons." 

"Aye,  sir!"  But  the  old  seaman  turned 
pathetically  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  "But 
name  o'  God!  We  might  as  well  put  our 
necks  on  the  block  in  New  Granada  for  the 
king  o'  Spain's  men,  as  lay  again  to  the  Place 
d'Armes  in  New  Orleans!" 

"We  are  returning,"  said  the  other  steadily, 
"for  the  peace  of  the  seas  between  two  na 
tions.  Eh,  old  brawler  of  the  ports !  Are  you 
with  me?  You,  Beluche?  Bohon,  Black 
Mike,  Gorgio — Slit-Nose?  Are  they  not  with 
me?" 


THE  PARTING  OF  THE  PATHS         211 

The  old  buccaneer  watched  the  English 
woman  out  of  hard,  blinking,  salt-reddened 
eyes. 

"Eh,  Men!"  he  growled  at  length.  "A  port 
for  Sazarac!  Hell's  bells  will  ring  for  us! 
The  young  gentleman  may  save  his  neck,  but 
you  and  I — Monsieur — Sazarac?  Very  well — 
it  is  for  the  English  woman !" 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MONSIEUR — OF   THE    CANNON    SHOT 

BUT  that  one  hour's  fitful  cap  of  wind  out 
of  the  south  died  ere  the  watch  changed.  The 
lady  of  the  Genaron  had  been  put  safely  away 
in  the  emperor's  own  suite;  and  whatever 
whispered  conferences  there  were,  fore  or 
aft,  upon  the  Napoleon  ship,  never  a  word  of 
it  drifted  to  her  curtained  ports. 

She  came  to  the  quarter-deck  the  next 
morning.  Monsieur  de  Almonaster  sprang  up 
from  a  cushioned  locker  under  the  awnings. 
There  seemed  no  other  life  upon  the 
schooner;  no  need  for  sailing  trim,  for  the 
long  black  hull  lay  on  the  slow  swell  of  the 
Mexican  Gulf,  canvas  limp,  and  yards  aslant, 
the  tiny  curl  of  smoke  from  the  galley  going 
up  straight  into  the  dead  air.  Southward  her 
eyes  made  out  a  dim  low  smudge  of  forest 
'line  above  the  blue  hot  sea. 

"Monsieur    de    Almonaster,"    she    queried, 
after  his  greetings,  "what  is  that  shore?" 
212 


MONSIEUR— OF  THE  GANNON  SHOT  213 

"It  appears  that  we  are  far  down  in  the 
bight  of  Gampeche  after  the  chase  of  you," 
smiled  Raoul.  "The  lookout  picked  up  a  sail 
at  dawn — idle  as  we  are,  but  they  fear  it  is  a 
Spanish  frigate  or  a  troop  carrier  out  of  the 
Mexicoes.  She  is  flat  in  the  tide  but  she  must 
have  sighted  us.  The  Genaron  must  have 
cleared  her  broken  stick  and  gone  off  in  the 
mists  easterly.  Nom  de  Dieu!  The  older 
dogs  deem  this  an  evil  shore !" 

"Where  is  Monsieur  Sazarac?" 

"In  his  cabin — writing." 

"What  is  this  mystery?"  Louise  Lestron 
put  her  fingers  to  his  sleeve  with  an  appeal 
that  drew  his  restless  eyes.  "The  steward's 
black  boy  who  served  my  breakfast  would 
not  respond  to  my  idlest  question.  And  at 
the  end,  suddenly  he  blurted  that  he  had  a 
message  for  me.  He  repeated  it  as  it  was 
given,  and  knew  nothing,  explained  nothing; 
vanished  like  a  frightened  slave." 

"A  message!"  exclaimed  Raoul  curiously. 

"He  merely  said:  'The  gentleman  who 
clung  to  the  lamp-post  wishes  the  lady  to 
know  that  he  has  a  new  waistcoat  in  honor  of 
his  love  for  her! 'What  is  the  jest,  Monsieur?" 


214  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"Ah!"  Raoul  laughed  sorrowfully.  The 
prisoner  of  the  brig  had  been  on  his  mind 
nightlong.  "It  appears  a  jest!  I  thought  you 
meant  this  ship?" 

"I  am  not  blind  to  that.  My  room  is  one 
that  a  princess  might  envy — it  needed  hardly 
a  guess  to  know  this  is  the  ship  that  your 
fantastic  Creoles  of  Louisiana  designed  for 
Bonaparte.  I  heard  much  of  the  grand 
scheme,  even  in  Quebec.  His  Majesty's  offi 
cers  about  all  the  ports  are  laughing  at  it.  A 
plot,  advertised  as  it  is,  with  feasts  and  mas 
querades!" 

Monsieur  winced.  He  did  not  think  the 
Tory  lady  should  know  that  he,  himself,  had 
some  thousands  invested  in  the  plot  Napoleon. 

"I  can  not  imagine  Monsieur  Sazarac  com 
manding  on  so  crackbrained  a  scheme  as  this 
of  the  Louisiana  gentry,"  she  went  on.  And 
then  with  a  timidity  new  to  her:  "Of  him, 
Monsieur— what  do  you  know?" 

"Of  Monsieur  Sazarac,"  Raoul  retorted 
gravely.  "Suppose  I  should  say  there  was  a 
man  standing  at  the  parting  of  two  paths. 
One  might  have  led  to  a  glorious  name — at 
least  to  a  glorious  death  in  an  exploit  that 


MONSIEUR— OF  THE  CANNON  SHOT  215 

the  world  would  never  have  forgotten — to 
rescue  the  exiled  emperor!  The  other  leads 
most  certainly  to  failure,  to  disgrace,  oblivion 
and  a  felon's  end.  What  if,  Mademoiselle, — 
Sazarac,  the  gamester,  chose  the  last — for 
you?" 

"For  me?"  she  cried  swiftly.  "Why,  that  is 
quite  impossible!" 

"Then  I  am  the  third  jester  of  this  ship," 
smiled  De  Almonaster. 

She  studied  this  mystery.  Then  she  looked 
at  him  with  shrewd  guessing  eyes:  "You 
mean,  Monsieur,  that  Sazarac  is  one  who 
dares  not  face  his  fellow-countrymen  again! 
A  mere  river  gamester — who,  by  some  means 
past  my  understanding,  leads  this  restless, 
swaggering  crew  to  rescue  me !  What  should 
he  fear  because  of  me?" 

"He  does  not  fear,"  retorted  Raoul.  And 
presently  he  found  a  reason  to  go  from  her. 
She  studied  his  mood  with  a  frown  between 
her  lovely  eyes.  Indeed,  upon  the  Esplanade, 
among  the  carriage  beauties,  they  might  well 
have  looked  after  the  lady  from  Quebec.  The 
colonial  sun  of  her  birthplace  had  given  her 
the  color  of  warm  lands;  the  North  her  cour- 


216  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

ageous  bearing.  Even  the  drowsy  crew, 
sprawled  forward  in  whatever  shade  offered, 
looked  aft,  noting  that  she  met  their  stares 
boldly,  but  with  indifference. 

"It  is  my  honor,"  mused  De  Almonaster, 
"that  I  stay  away  from  her.  I — upon  whose 
lips  love  is  bursting!  I,  who  have  sought  for 
her,  and  waited !  Even  as  Jarvis,  the  lunatic, 
who  wishes  her  to  know  of  his  new  waist 
coat." 

Mademoiselle  Lestron  saw  the  master  but 
once;  after  her  siesta  in  the  cabin,  which  was 
hardly  more  endurable  against  the  flat  heat 
of  the  dead  calm  than  the  deck,  he  came  to 
her  under  the  awnings.  It  appeared  that  the 
gentlemen  had  agreed  that  the  after-deck  was 
for  the  sole  use  of  Mademoiselle  when  the 
ship  was  not  being  worked.  At  least  the  fat 
councilor,  Dominique,  and  the  truculent 
Beluche,  smoked  their  long  pipes  down  the 
rail  and  kept  well  out  of  question-reach. 

"You  are  comfortable,  Mademoiselle,  after 
this  blistering  day  of  calm?"  Sazarac  in 
quired  gravely. 

"Your  black  boys  could  not  have  done 
more — except  to  enlighten  me!  Monsieur 


MONSIEUR— OF  THE  CANNON  SHOT  217 

Sazarac  of  the  Mississippi  packets — are  you  a 
magic  worker  that,  from  a  card-room,  you 
leap  to  command  a  gunned  schooner?" 

"With  one  trifle  of  a  pause — upon  the  stair 
case  of  a  house,  a  certain  night."  And  after 
that  he  left  her,  the  relenting,  pretty  speech 
unsaid  upon  her  lips;  and  she  was  used  to 
gentlemen  awaiting  her  favor. 

The  sun  was  setting  when  Johannes  came 
up  from  quarters  and  raised  a  moistened  fin 
ger  to  feel  the  air.  The  heat  had  been  a  thing 
to  thicken  the  blood  in  a  man's  skull  that  day. 

"A  wind,"  he  growled  to  old  Bohon,  with 
truculent  humor:  "a  bit  o'  wind  for  Captain 
Sazarac!  La-la! — a  wind  for  Sazarac!" 

"It  took  a  rope's  end  to  beat  the  name  into 
the  galley  boys,"  grumbled  Bohon,  "and  more 
than  a  quarrel  to  have  the  fo'cas'le  mouth  the 
name  aright.  Sazarac — the  Captain  Sazarac! 
John  Crackley,  who  might  well  be  in  irons, 
save  that  I  volunteered  to  Jean  that  it  was 
inexpedient,  glowers  over  this  deceit  of  Saz 
arac.  Some  of  these  scoundrels  will  yet  tell 
the  lady  the  truth— that  she  is  the  guest  of 
Jean  Lafitte  on  a  ship  cut  free  for  marauding 
on  the  Spanish  Main  again !" 


218  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"And  die  for't,"  grunted  Johanness,  "for  I 
will  pistol  the  first  that  betrays  him." 

"But  women — bah!  The  first  week  out — 
women!  The  venture  will  miss  fire  if  those 
back  on  the  quarter-deck  drool  over  women! 
Old  dog,  he  can  not  hold  these  fellows  long 
with  an  intrigue  over  a  woman!  It  is  even 
rumored  that  she  plead  with  the  captain  to 
sail  at  once  on  the  first  wind  back  to  New 
Orleans  on  some  affair  of  hers." 

"I  know,"  muttered  the  bo'sun  doubtfully, 
"but  he  can  not  mean  it.  The  calaboza  for 
us  all,  if  not  the  gallows.  Besides  the  laugh 
ing  about  the  levees — we  would  be  a  sick  and 
sorry  lot  of  dogs  sneaking  back  to  plead 
guilty  of  stealing  a  ship — to  please  a  woman ! 
No,  Jean  can  not  dare  that!" 

"I  will  be  with  him,"  declared  old  Bohon 
stoutly. 

"Aye — and  I!  And  Nez  Coupe,  Gorgio  and 
Joe  Rigo !  And  a  dozen  of  the  crew  to  whom 
he  is  Jean  of  old  days!  But  there  are  two- 
score  brawling  ne'er-do-wells  to  whom  La- 
fitte  is  but  a  name  to  conjure  up  plunder — 
wine  and  gold  scattered  in  the  ports  where 
some  alcalde  durst  not  question  us!  In  the 


MONSIEUR— OF  THE  GANNON  SHOT  219 

first  heat  of  this  foray  we  did  not  pick  our 
crew  with  the  greatest  wisdom,  Bohon.  The 
affair  last  night  is  not  the  end.  Jean  had 
best  look  well  to  his  lady,  if  he  means  this  o' 
making  the  river  passes  again  to  please  her." 

The  bo'sun  waddled  past  the  snoring  groups 
forward.  Here  and  there  one  watched  him 
covertly.  John  Crackley  sat  up  from  the 
pitchy  seams  and  wiped  his  bandaged  brow. 
He  nudged  Black  Michel  as  Johanness  passed. 

"Have  you  marked  that  squab,  Mike?  He 
was  one  who  was  all  against  us  lifting  a  shil 
ling  from  the  bark — devil  take  such  privateer 
ing!" 

"I,  for  one,  will  not  go  back,"  grumbled 
Michel.  "I  knifed  a  dock  guard  the  night  we 
left — it  was  an  old  score  I  had  with  him.  No, 
Saz-a-rac  can  not  put  to  port  with  me!" 

"Nor  I.  Nor  Burke  nor  Kelly.  Nor 
Mariano,  the  Manilaman,  who  has  the  price 
over  his  head.  Old  Budge  took  government 
money  when  he  left  the  customs  dock.  I 
say — "  The  deserter  rubbed  his  palm  and 
glowered  aft  at  the  awnings. 

"What  say — John?"  grunted  the  two,  their 
wary  eyes  on  the  bo'sun  forward. 


220  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"We  watch  what  course  he  lays.  To  the 
straits,  or  down  off  Cozumel,  we  say  nothing 
until  a  prize  shows.  And  the  schooner  is  laid 
nor'ard— eh?" 

"A  bloody  good  lay-to,  I  say!  After  that, 
meeting  a  ship,  we'll  have  no  Saz-a-rac  who 
must  ask  a  lady  before  we  can  lift  a  rum  cask 
off  her!" 

And  that  issue  of  the  land  breeze,  which 
picks  up  in  these  latitudes  after  the  sun  goes 
down,  hovered  like  a  ghost  over  the  lacquer 
table  in  the  cabin  of  the  emperor  where  there 
sat  to  dine  with  the  lady  of  the  Genaron, 
Beluche,  the  gold-braided  admiral  of  Carta 
gena;  Dominique,  the  alderman  of  New  Or 
leans;  the  Count  de  Almonaster,  and  Saz- 
arac  who  sat  in  the  host's  chair  with  the  guest 
at  his  right.  They  were  astounded  at  her 
gown  for  the  evening  until  they  recalled  that 
the  lady's  baggage  had  come  from  the  luckless 
bark  that  night  of  her  rescue.  Pale  rose  was 
the  shimmer  of  her  silk,  like  the  myrtle  of 
the  court  where  he  had  first  come  to  claim 
her  as  his  wager;  and  there  was  a  perfume 
that  recalled  the  jasmined  walls. 

The  lamps  of  brass  and  crystal  shone  very 


MONSIEUR— OF  THE  CANNON  SHOT  221 

bright,  but  there  was  one  vacant  chair  among 
the  gentlemen.  Raoul  glanced  at  it,  seeing 
that  their  guest  had  done  the  same.  The 
serving  man  seemed  suddenly  disturbed. 

An  old  free  man  of  color  with  a  broad  ex 
pressionless  face,  haled  from  some  staveyard 
of  the  river-front  and  of  service  to  the  Bara- 
taria  smugglers  since  before  the  days  of 
Pakenham,  it  was  impossible  to  suppose  that 
a  sentiment  could  stir  his  sluggish  savagery. 
Yet  now,  his  beady  eyes  were  eloquent.  He 
lingered  by  De  Almonaster's  chair: 

"Monsieur — of  the  cannon  shot — wished  a 
place  set  for  him,  though  he  can  not  come  to 
tell  the  lady  that  he  loves  her." 

Raoul  glanced  at  Sazarac.  The  leader's 
eyes  were  on  the  vacant  seat. 

The  ghost  of  the  lost  friend  might  have  sat 
there,  the  sorry  jester  of  the  new  waistcoat, 
so  long  the  constraint  grew  among  them. 
Mademoiselle  Lestron  looked  curiously  from 
one  to  the  other;  then  to  the  admiral  with 
the  trappings  of  the  gimcrack  republic  of  the 
South,  and  the  velvet-clad  respectability  of 
the  alderman. 

"What  is  the  jest,  gentlemen?"  she  cried. 


222  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"The  guest  who  can  not  come!"  She  lifted 
her  glass:  "A  toast  to  him,  then — what  say 
you  all?" 

The  four  gentlemen  drank  it  after  a  curious 
pause,  waiting  for  the  cue  of  Sazarac. 

"And  now,"  growled  Beluche,  "to  a  wind 
against  him — a  wind  o'  death!" 

"It  is  a  phrase  of  the  coast,"  put  in  Raoul 
hurriedly,  seeing  the  sudden  recoil  of  the 
smiling  lady  of  the  emperor's  cabin  from  this 
grimness:  "The  hurricane  month  is  upon  us, 
after  these  calms.  A  wind — there  must  be 
many  of  the  Spanish  king's  ships — heavy- 
gunned  frigates — lying  in  the  tides  above  us, 
helpless  as  we.  Here's  to  a  topsail  breeze  to 
take  the  Seraphine  from  under  their  clumsy 
feet!" 

And  as  they  were  drinking  this,  and  Mad 
emoiselle  was  breaking  into  a  chatter  to 
cover  the  grotesque  menace  she  could  not  di 
vine,  there  came  a  tap  at  the  door.  A  face 
showed  there — a  fair,  young  ship's  'prentice, 
whom  De  Almonaster  remembered  as  being 
one  of  the  English  deserters. 

He  raised  a  warning  hand  pa$t  the  black 
serving  man.  "A  wrord,  sir!" 


MONSIEUR— OF  THE  GANNON  SHOT  223 

"Yes,  my  lad?    But  what  is  this?" 

The  boy  crept  about  to  Sazarac's  chair  as 
if  the  master's  protection  must  serve  him. 

"I  am  Clark,  sir — from  the  Genaron. 
Bohon  sent  me  from  the  wheel.  He  wished  to 
report  privately,  sir.  There  is  a  light  in  the 
south — the  steersman  says  it  is  a  shore  light. 
He  does  not  like  the  drift  in  this  tide  sou'- 
sou'west,  and  he  thinks  the  leadsman  lies 
when  he  says  we  have  more  than  eight  fathom 
o'  water." 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this?"  cried  the 
skipper.  "Bohon — why  must  he  send  a  man 
in  secret  to  me?  Speak  up,  Clark!" 

"He  did  not  wish  to  arouse  them  for'ard,  sir, 
and  he  does  not  trust  the  lookout  or  the 
sounding.  He  suddenly  fears  the  watch  have 
a  mind  to  let  the  schooner  beach  herself,  sir, 
on  a  spit  o'  sand — " 

The  master's  hand  had  swung  up,  his  face 
darkling.  "What?  Has  it  gone  so  far  as  this? 
They  are  out  of  control  forward?" 

"The  deck  officer,  sir,  has  disappeared. 
Bohon  is  suspicious  of  something  that  he  can 
not  put  eye  or  hand  upon."  The  lad  stopped, 
as  if  he  was  not  telling  all.  "And,  sir,  I  would 


224  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

have  a  care  how  any  of  your  party  go  above. 
It  might  be  better  if  none  suspect  you  are 
warned — " 

The  captain  raised  his  hand:  "Then,  gen 
tlemen,  one  at  a  time — to  the  steersman. 
Beluche,  you  follow!  Clark,  I  count  on  you, 
sir!" 

"I  could  not  stand  wi'  'em,  sir.  They 
threatened  me.  They  have  freed  Mr.  Jarvis 
from  the  brig — he  found  drink  at  once  for 
'em—" 

"Jarvis!"  Sazarac  was  upon  the  compan 
ion-stairs,  leaving  them  all  in  an  astounded 
silence.  The  empty  chair  of  the  jester,  to  De 
Almonaster's  eyes,  seemed  to  hold  a  grinning, 
ragged  wastrel  of  the  rue  Royale  .  .  .  and 
beyond  the  health  drunk  to  him,  the  feast  was 
untouched.  The  admiral  of  Cartagena 
hitched  his  sword-belt  higher,  nodded  to 
them,  and  stole  above.  Clark  was  at  his  heels, 
and  once  aft,  took  the  wheel  from  old  Bohon. 

"Now,  then,"  said  the  master,  "what  do  you 
know,  Bohon?" 

"It  is  the  strange  silence,  sir.  The  ship  is 
flat  as  a  dead  ship.  Black  Michel  had  charge 
o'  the  watch,  but  it  is  as  if  every  soul  had 


MONSIEUR— OF  THE  CANNON  SHOT  225 

vanished  after  they  gave  me  the  last  sound 
ing.  I  had  the  lead  out  because  we  made  out 
a  spit  o'  land  once  at  dusk,  you  remember." 

"The  forward  lookout?" 

"I  had  no  answer  when  I  asked  about  that 
light  off  our  port  bow,  sir." 

"They  must  have  all  gone  below,  sir — Black 
Mike  and  his  watch  with  them,"  muttered 
Beluche.  "An  unlawful  drinking  bout,  per 
haps,  with  the  rum  that  it  seems  Jarvis  finds 
way  to  get  to  'em." 

"Beluche,  you  will  come  with  me  to  see  to 
this.  The  older  men,  surely  the  Baratarians, 
are  not  with  the  levee  renegades  we  shipped 
along!" 

"It  is  plunder  they  came  for,  sir,"  grunted 
the  admiral.  "First,  we  must  get  to  the  arms 
room." 

"They  are  watching  that,  sir,"  whispered 
Clark.  "They  smuggled  ten  muskets  from 
some  concealment,  but  they  lack  powder." 

"Name  o'  the  devil !"  blustered  the  admiral. 
"Come!  Lafitte's  name  with  the  old  bullies! 
No  more  o'  this  Sazarac,  I  say!" 

De  Almonaster  was  with  the  two  as  they 
passed  the  main-mast.  Then  another  figure 


226  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

slipped  to  them  from  the  shadows.  "It  has 
come  quick,  sir,"  Nez  Coupe  whispered. 
"They  must  rid  the  ship  o'  the  English  wo 
man,  they  say;  and  then  ask  you  a  fair  word 
for  a  prize.  If  not  that,  death  to  Sazarac — " 

"They  need  not  wait — "  laughed  Sazarac. 
"Come, — death  to  the  first  three  men  that 
show!  Then  a  fair  word  to  the  rest!  Mon 
sieur  de  Almonaster,  your  pistols  ready? 
Come,  down  the  after-companion  and  to  the 
arms  room.  How  many  are  there  of  us  to  be 
trusted  at  the  first?" 

"I  say  you  must  be  Jean  Lafitte,  sir," 
growled  Beluche.  "Jean  o'  the  Black  Petral 
for  this  night.  Old  bullies  will  come  roaring 
to  you,  once  this  clatter  o'  Sazarac  and  the 
English  woman  is  done  among  'em!" 

"Well,  then— Lafitte,"  he  smiled.  "Come, 
you  all,  with  Jean  again!" 

"The  arms  room,"  Bohon  moved  like  a 
shadow  down  the  passage.  "Once  sure  o'  that, 
clear  'em  to  the  deck  and  drive  'em  howling! 
Burke  and  Crackley  to  be  shot  on  sight,  eh?" 

"Aye,"  retorted  Johanness.  "Then  we'll 
have  the  older  bullies — they  will  balk,  once 
they  see  the  mettle  in  Lafitte's  men." 


MONSIEUR— OF  THE  CANNON  SHOT  227 

The  master  had  stationed  Clark  at  the 
closed  cabin  aft,  where  the  lady  of  the  Gen- 
aron  must  be  waiting  in  silent  terror  for  the 
issue.  But  Dominique  waddled  to  the  group 
and  whispered:  "The  English  woman  is 
calm  as  the  sea  itself.  She  looks  to  Sazarac 
for  a  quick  stroke — " 

"Come,"  said  the  commander.  "In  si 
lence — " 

A  dim  lantern  showed  the  deck-beams  over 
their  heads  as  they  crept  along  the  waist. 
The  arms  locker  was  on  the  starboard  side. 
Beside  the  door  a  figure  beckoned  to  them  in 
the  shadows.  It  must  be  one  of  Nez  Coupe's 
loyal  ones;  the  little  band  stole  on  past  the 
stowage  rooms.  Monsieur  Sazarac  had  even 
turned  to  speak  to  the  shadowy  sentinel,  when 
there  came  a  rush  of  bare  feet  from  either 
side.  A  hoarse  shout  broke.  Steel  rang  on 
steel,  a  pistol  exploded  in  the  narrow  pas 
sage.  The  rush  caught  the  party  with  an  im 
pact  that  left  no  chance  for  weapons.  A 
burly  form  hurled  to  Sazarac's  shoulders, 
another  dragged  at  his  legs.  De  Almonaster 
broke  his  rapier  at  a  vain  thrust  and  went 
down  under  blows  and  curses. 


228  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

The  affair  was  over  with  surprising  quick 
ness.  There  must  have  been  thirty  mutineers 
roaring,  struggling  in  the  passageway.  Along 
they  dragged  the  prisoners,  and  none  fought 
back  now,  for  it  was  useless. 

"The  English  woman!"  shouted  Grackley. 
"Ye'd  sail  for  the  English  woman,  Sazarac, 
and  let  us  bullies  dance  to  the  music!" 

"A  free  ship,  hearties,  and  a  wind  for  a 
prize !"  howled  Black  Mike. 

"You  hang  for  this,  Michel,"  cried  De  Al- 
monaster.  "And  you,  Burke! — and  you — and 
you — and  you — " 

"Monsieur  De  Almonaster,"  murmured  Saz 
arac.  "This  is  of  no  avail." 

"Aye,  young  gentleman!"  howled  another. 
"How  did  you  come  by  this  ship?  The  law 
will  say  to  that,  eh — John  Crackley?" 

It  was  this,  indeed,  that  had  won  the  crew 
to  Crackley's  plot  .  .  .  the  ship's  sailing  was 
all  outside  the  law — it  was  his  who  took  it 
last. 

The  mutineers,  a  howling,  disorderly  pack, 
took  the  prisoners  aft,  and  there,  upon  the 
quarter-deck,  as  one  waiting  to  have  honor 
done  him,  stood  John  Jarvis.  Apparently  he 


MONSIEUR— OF  THE  CANNON  SHOT  229 

was  drunk,  or  apparently  he  was  posing  .  .  . 
it  was  of  no  moment.  Monsieur  Sazarac  shot 
him  one  black  look  and  then  would  face  him 
no  more.  • 

"The  commodore!"  yelled  the  brawlers. 
"The  Emperor  o'  the  Bottle,  who  swore  he 
would  yet  sleep  in  old  Bony's  bed!  Turn  in 
to't,  Mad  John!" 

The  jester  raised  an  unsteady  hand  as  if  he 
would  speak,  and  then  thought  better  of  it. 
He  rubbed  his  nose  and  gazed  upon  them;  he 
rubbed  one  ankle  against  the  other,  and  his 
empty  scabbard  rattled.  He  drew  aside  his 
soiled,  silken-lined  cloak  to  show  a  parti 
colored  waistcoat  with  the  air  of  a  pan 
tomimic  who  at  least  could  have  one  trick. 

His  silence  but  heightened  the  effect,  and 
the  laughter.  It  was  plain  he  was  trying  to 
enact  the  part  of  a  swaggering  frigate  captain 
and  making  an  absurd  failure  of  it  by  a  cu 
rious  doleful  humanness.  Most  plain,  also, 
that  he,  of  all,  best  knew  this  failure  to  play 
a  Rhodomont. 

1  "A  better  buccaneer  than  this  Sazarac,*' 
croaked  Crackley.  "To  think  I  once  took  a 
shot  from  this  fellow  off  Rio  in  the  old  days! 


230  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

Eh,  well — sail  south  again!  I — navigator; 
Black  Mike,  second;  and  Burke,  bo'sun!  Is 
it  agreed?" 

"The  commodore!  You  forgot  the  commo 
dore  !"  the  ruffians  shouted. 

It  appeared  that  the  jester  was  about  to 
speak,  to  make  effort  at  a  leadership  of  the 
evil  spew  he  had  evoked  .  .  .  and  then  his 
gesture  died  away.  He,  himself,  turned  away, 
a  ghost  figure  by  the  port  quarter-rail. 

For  the  English  woman  had  come  with 
Clark,  the  frightened  English  boy.  There  was 
first  a  jeer  and  then  a  crowding  to  see  her. 

She  stood  apart  from  the  group  of  prison 
ers,  after  a  brief  look  at  them,  and  turned  to 
the  mutineers.  The  black  lace  scarf  she  had 
thrown  about  her  white  shoulders  when  she 
left  the  untouched  dinner  in  the  cabin  at  the 
surly  summons  of  one  of  Crackley's  men,  fell 
from  her  as  if  to  disclose  the  bold  quick  chal 
lenge  she  had  for  them. 

"What  is  this,  then?"  she  cried  sharply. 

"We  are  taken,  Mademoiselle,"  returned  the 
master  quietly.  "That  is  all  there  is  to  it."  He 
turned  sternly  to  John  Crackley  whose  leer 
upon  the  English  woman  boded  no  good  for 


MONSIEUR— OF  THE  CANNON  SHOT  231 

her.  "I  demand  safety  for  this  lady.  Let  her 
return  to  her  cabin.  Do  you  understand  me — 
respect  in  all  things?" 

"Eh?"  grunted  the  other.  "We'll  see  to 
that.  Mates — "  he  glanced  uncertainly  at  his 
fellows  upon  whom  there  had  come  a  curious 
silence  at  the  captain's  assumption  of  author 
ity,  even  at  this  pass :  "The  woman — now — " 

His  voice  was  cut  short  by  the  tremendous 
explosion  of  a  huge  pistol  upon  the  poop-deck 
above  them  all.  A  single  figure  was  there,  an 
unkempt,  grotesque  man  who  now  was  peer 
ing  curiously  into  the  muzzle  of  his  smoking 
weapon.  Every  eye  had  been  drawn  to  him 
with  a  start. 

Jarvis's  pale  face,  framed  in  his  long,  mat 
ted  black  hair,  turned  down  to  them. 

"You  see,  I  missed  it—"  he  said  plaintively. 

"Jarvis,"  Burke,  the  deserter,  croaked, 
"what's  that?" 

"The  cabin  skylight — at  ten  paces.  Name 
o'  God!  If  I  am  to  be  commodore,  I  will 
need  practise.  Some  of  you  kindly  reload 
my  pistol." 

There  was  a  shout  of  amazed  laughter  from 
them.  The  deck  lamp  showed  the  English 


232  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

woman  staring  up  at  him;  behind  her,  the 
prisoners  of  the  quarter-deck.  He  came  to 
the  low  rail  and  looked  down. 

Not  at  the  lady  who  once  looked  back  at 
him  on  the  Esplanade.  She  might  have  been 
an  unseen  spectator  over  the  footlights,  and 
he  the  chief  player  at  the  center  of  the  stage, 
taking  his  cue  from  an  invisible  prompter. 

Neither  did  his  old  friends  of  the  rue 
Royale,  and  of  the  smugglers'  wine-shops  of 
years  agone,  appear  to  exist  in  his  eye.  He 
shrugged,  with  an  open  palm  down  to  the  con 
spirators. 

"How  can  I  be  a  Sazarac — to  slit  a  throat, 
pistol  a  tradesman,  or  scuttle  a  ship,  without 
instruction  from  some  one?  And  as  to  the 
woman — " 

The  evil  mood  of  the  fo'cas'le  skulkers  was 
turning  to  jeering,  puzzled  laughter.  They 
turned  from  Craekley  with  raised  weapons, 
offered  with  chuckles  to  the  speaker. 

"Mad  John!"  shouted  Black  Michel.  "John 
o'  the  rum,  and  speckled  waistcoat!  Commo 
dore,  I  say — and  well's  the  need  when  we  can 
not  decide  on't!" 

"Eh,  this  is  no  fool's  affair,"  growled 
Craekley.  "Here  we  win  a  ship — " 


MONSIEUR— OF  THE  CANNON  SHOT  233 

"But  no  woman!"  growled  Burke.  "She 
goes  off  the  ship !  No  affair  o'  women,  Crack- 
ley!" 

"No  women — "  grunted  Black  Michel.  "I 
vote  with  Burke — wTe'd  ha*  been  hull  down  in 
Yucatan  Straits  and  a  good  ship  laid  to  by 
now,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  woman!" 

Crackley  was  casting  sullen  glances  to  the 
others.  Greed,  lust,  fear  for  his  hardly-won 
dominance  over  the  mutineers — he  tried  to 
whisper  to  the  nearer  ones,  but  another  croak 
ing  voice  took  it  up. 

"There  never  come  good  on  a  free  cruise  wi' 
women  in  it.  I  seen  bullies  fall  out  afore  wi' 
a  woman  aft — " 

"The  commodore!"  laughed  another  from 
the  shadows.  "Give  the  English  woman  to 
the  commodore!  He  can  play  the  fool  with 
her  and  no  harm  to  it,  while  we  sail!" 

And  the  evil  laughter  grew;  it  became  an 
acclaiming  uproar  toward  the  ragged  man 
upon  the  raised  after-deck.  Raoul  saw  him 
in  the  flare  of  the  light  ...  a  sad  and  terrible 
face  turned  down  to  them,  but  upon  the  wo 
man  his  eyes  would  not  rest.  He  appeared  a 
man  who  had  failed  again  .  .  .  who  had 


234  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

raised  devils  in  his  own  heart  and  in  those  he 
swayed  with  his  mocking — who  lifted  his  eyes 
to  a  phantom  of  power  and  sweetness,  but 
who  was,  after  all,  merely  the  ragged  lord  of 
the  bottle  and  of  his  piebald  waistcoat  so  care 
fully  laid  away  until  now  in  oiled  paper  in  a 
crevice  of  the  brig  from  which  the  mutineers 
had  dragged  him.  He  swayed  uncertainly  on 
his  feet  and  looked  down  upon  the  expectant, 
jeering  faces.  Curiously  enough,  it  seemed 
that  they  were  his — to  send  hither,  thither,  as 
his  humor  would  bend  their  evil.  .  .  .  And 
he  did  not  know  how  to  command  them. 

"Ho — Commodore!"  They  bawled  up  at 
him.  "The  word,  Jarvis!" 

The  eye  of  Sazarac  was  coldly  upon  him. 
But  to  this  friend  of  his  old  days,  as  irre 
deemable  as  these,  he  had  the  same  blank 
stare  as  he  had  for  Louise  Lestron.  As  if  they 
were  not  there — as  if  she  was  a  mere  ghost 
and  he  looking  through  her  to  the  evil  pack 
behind  her. 

And  suddenly  he  yawned,  his  hand  to  his 
mouth,  pulled  his  dirty  cloak  around  him — 
it  was  a  warm  night  and  he  must  have  worn 
the  tattered  silk  merely  for  its  theatricism  as 


MONSIEUR— OF  THE  CANNON  SHOT  235 

it  disclosed  the  cutlass  which  entangled  his 
legs — and  strode  back  to  the  main  compan- 
ionway.  His  shock  of  black  hair  disappeared 
slowly  to  the  emperor's  cabin. 

The  affair  had  been  dismissed  by  him  as  of 
no  consequence,  it  appeared.  Yet  he  had 
interposed  with  his  fool's  act  at  just  the  mo 
ment  to  crush  John  Crackley's  hope  to  pos 
sess  the  English  woman  .  .  .  they  had 
turned  to  him  with  laughter  offering  him 
this  prize  of  the  English  woman.  And  the 
surly  quarrel  began  once  more  among  the 
mutineers.  Only,  now,  at  the  muttered  dis 
sent  of  Crackley  as  to  the  English  woman, 
there  was  a  snarling  protest. 

"The  longboat  for  her — and  any  o'  the  fine 
gentlemen  who  wish  to  follow!"  shouted 
Black  Michel.  "No  women  for  this  ship, 
Crackley!" 

"Aye!"  howled  another.  "The  Spaniard  is 
lying  off  there  not  two  hours'  pull.  Saz-a-rac 
will  find  welcome  on  the  king's  ship !" 

The  laughter  grew  again.  Not  a  man  of 
them  all  but  knew  what  shift  Jean  Lafitte 
would  have  with  the  Spanish  viceroy's  cap 
tains.  And  the  chorus  grew  to  a  clamor. 


236  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

"The  longboat  for  her!  The  Spaniard  or 
the  reef — it's  no  affair  o'  ours!  I  vote  wi* 
Black  Mike!" 

"And  I!" 

"And  I!" 

"And  I!" 

Crackley  turned  a  bitter  eye  upon  the  Eng 
lish  woman.  She  had  been  curiously  still; 
watchful,  first  of  the  jester  of  the  after-deck, 
and  then  of  the  mutineers  who  crowded  be 
fore  her.  Now  she  drew  herself  up  with  un 
measured  disdain  upon  them  all.  At  a  word 
from  Black  Michel  there  had  been  a  scatter 
ing  of  the  crew.  Some  to  the  longboat  davits, 
others  to  the  store  rooms.  The  rest  began  to 
curse  and  jest  impatiently.  Only,  here  and 
there,  as  if  skulking  from  the  eyes  of  Lafitte, 
some  of  the  older  men  wrhispered  dubiously. 

Mademoiselle  Lestron  turned  to  the  man 
she  knew  as  Gaspar  Sazarac,  the  gamester  of 
Chartres  Street.  "And  this  has  come  to  you 
because  of  me,  Monsieur?" 

"It  is  worth  a  thousand  mutinies.  Never 
fear — the  Spaniards  hereabout  are  not  all  cut 
throats.  You — the  ward  of  Carr,  who  is  the 
secret  agent  of  their  king  .  .  .  why,  what  have 


MONSIEUR— OF  THE  CANNON  SHOT  237 

you  to  fear  from  them,  Mademoiselle  Les- 
tron?" 

But  old  Beluche  shook  his  head.  It  might 
be  well  at  the  Spaniards'  hands  for  Madem 
oiselle  Lestron  of  Quebec,  and  for  the  Count 
de  Almonaster  of  New  Orleans,  descended 
from  a  line  of  Castilian  viceroys  of  Louisiana ; 
but  for  Jean  Lafitte;  for  Beluche,  of  the 
Cartagenian  rebels;  Johanness,  and  the  others 
who  had  harried  the  Mexican  trade  routes  for 
thirty  years — there  was  quick  death  in  any 
port  of  New  Spain  for  them  all! 

The  mutineers  well  knew  it.  They  were 
sending  the  gentlemen  of  the  Seraphine  to 
their  fate  as  surely  as  if  they  had  hurled  them 
to  the  sharks. 

But  she  could  not  know.  When  the  long 
boat  was  ready,  and  the  crew  made  way  si 
lently  for  her,  she  turned  to  Sazarac  with  a 
sudden  timid  softness: 

"Monsieur,  something  is  due  you  from  me! 
Could  I  not  appeal  to  them — could  you  not 
regain  command  and  sail  with  them — if  I  was 
put  adrift?" 

He  smiled;  but  it  was  as  if  he  did  not  care 
to  look  upon  her.  He  was  as  one  who  had 


238  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

been  given  to  see  a  beautiful  vision,  and  be 
fore  it  had  come  an  evil  jester,  a  mocking 
voice  to  still  the  faint  good  he  had  sought. 

De  Almonaster  had  been  watching.  He  fol 
lowed  her  as  the  captain  led  the  way.  Near 
the  rail  the  girl  put  her  hand  to  Sazarac's 
sleeve. 

"I  am  bewildered,  Monsieur!  It  is  as  if  you 
had  given  up  much  for  me!" 

"I  have  given  much  up  for  you,"  he 
answered  quietly.  "The  wreck  of  years — 
wild  evil,  infamy,  which — God  willing — you 
shall  never  know !" 

She  looked  back  at  Count  de  Almonaster. 
His  face  was  averted,  but  he  must  have  heard. 
He  wras  even  a  trifle  cold  to  her  as  he  helped 
her  to  the  ladder. 

On  his  honor  De  Almonaster  would  not 
speak  his  old  boy's  love  to  her  when  her  ever- 
questing  eyes  were  going  to  the  gamester,  Saz- 
arac — the  mystery  of  Sazarac,  the  lure  of 
Sazarac's  promise  that  he  would  claim  what 
he  had  won  across  Maspero's  gaming  table. 
She  thought  it  very  odd,  even  at  this  moment 
.  .  .  the  withdrawing  of  the  two  gentlemen 
from  her  interest,  as  if  each  was  waiting, 


MONSIEUR— OF  THE  GANNON  SHOT  239 

watching,  for  the  other  to  conclude  his  play. 
Two  rapiers  drawn  but  withheld,  perhaps,  for 
the  opponent  to  tie  his  shoe. 

And  with  a  sigh  she  followed.  But  her  last 
glance  back  showed  a  glimpse  down  through 
the  open  skylight  to  the  cabin  of  the  emperor. 
The  lamps  were  very  bright  there.  She  saw 
a  slouched  figure  in  the  chair  of  the  host.  A 
pale  tall  man  eating  and  drinking  greedily 
as  if  with  a  rare  appetite  for  the  viands  of  the 
emperor's  stores.  He  jammed  his  faded  vel 
vet  cap  closer  over  his  eyes,  and  then  his  hand 
found  something  by  the  plate  that  had  been 
next  to  Sazarac's — her  own. 

It  was  a  bracelet  which  she  remembered 
had  become  disengaged  when  she  drank  the 
health  to  the  chair  of  the  missing  guest.  The 
man  lifted  the  gold  trinket,  examined  it  under 
the  light — and  kissed  it.  Then  he  fell  to  eat 
ing  with  rather  the  manners  of  the  barroom. 
The  Emperor  of  the  Bottle  was  in  the  chair 
of  Sazarac  .  .  .  but  after  all,  as  was  the  way 
with  him,  when  what  he  wanted  was  at  his 
grasp,  he  could  not  take  it.  It  was  the  same 
case  as  when  he  could  not  hit  a  window  with 
his  pistol  at  ten  paces,  or  swagger  his  sword 


240  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

without  the  point  catching  in  a  hole  of  his 
stocking.  He  never  would  aim  carefully 
enough,  or  wear  his  small  sword  high  enough 
...  or  love  ruthlessly  enough. 

Outside  he  heard  the  splash  of  the  oars 
waiting  to  take  her  away. 

Then  shouting,  jeers  from  the  scuffling 
mutineers.  Crackley's  rasping  voice  above 
the  others: 

"The  boat,  hearties!  The  English  woman 
goes!  The  blue-blooded  young  gentleman  of 
Louisiana  goes !  The  master,  Saz-a-rac,  goes ! 
Who  else  o'  ye  all  to  taste  the  fare  o'  the  king 
o'  Spain's  ship?" 

"Fat  Dominique!"  cried  one.  "Beluche!" 
said  another.  "There'll  be  welcome  for  the 
admiral  o'  Cartagena  by  the  Spaniards! 
Bohon — Nez  Coupe — aye,  and  this  white  rat, 
Clark,  or  I  cut  the  heart  o'  him  out !" 

The  lone  guest  in  the  emperor's  suite  could 
hear  them  descending  to  the  longboat.  There 
was  a  mutter  when  Johanness  swung  from  the 
rail.  But  when  old  Gorgio,  the  sullen  Catalan 
cutthroat  of  other  days,  the  most  bloody- 
minded  of  all  the  Black  Petral's  vanished 
crew,  strode  to  the  ladder,  there  was  a  yell. 


MONSIEUR— OF  THE  CANNON  SHOT  241 

"The  old  rib-sticker !    He  leaves  us,  mates !" 

Gorgio  eyed  them  with  fierce  disdain.  "I 
sail  with  men,"  he  growled:  "not  pot-house 
lawyers !  Who,  o'  ye  all,  ever  put  foot  across 
a  bloody  deck,  save  Black  Mike?  Who,  o' 
ye  louts,  sailed  the  old  days  with  Jean  and 
Pierre?" 

They  let  the  yellow  tiger  go  in  silence.  And 
one  by  one,  others  of  the  Baratarian  priva 
teers  stole  from  the  shadows  and  joined  the 
longboat.  Joe  Rigo,  Freniere;  Teton,  and  two 
other  free  men  of  color — presently  there  num 
bered  seventeen  in  all  who  crowded  in  the 
thwarts  or  stood,  when,  with  Johanness  at  the 
tiller,  the  oarsmen  swung  from  the  schooner's 
side. 

"Let  go!"  snarled  Nez  Coupe.  "Part  with 
the  scum!  Men  o'  La — "  He  stopped  and 
glanced  back  at  the  lady :  "But  Sazarac  is  in 
command!" 

There  was  a  mutter,  half  amused,  half  of 
resentment,  both  from  the  exiles  in  the  long 
boat  and  from  the  mutineers  crowded  at  the 
rail.  It  suddenly  appeared  oddly  clear  to  De 
Almonaster  that  not  once,  during  the  affair, 
had  the  name  of  Jean  Lafitte  been  upon  the 


242  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

lips  of  the  most  unruly  of  them  all.  It  struck 
the  count  as  very  strange;  he  glanced  at  the 
girl  on  the  seat  before  him,  wondering  why 
the  air  had  not  rung  with  the  most  notorious 
name  of  the  decades.  Jean  Lafitte  himself, 
standing  upright  in  the  bow,  silently  watching 
the  dim  mysterious  shore  of  savage  Cam- 
peche,  with  its  unconquered  Indians,  and  still 
more  ruthless  Spanish  captains  holding  every 
point  of  refuge,  must  have  wondered. 

"Monsieur  Sazarac!"  the  girl  cried  sud 
denly,  as  if,  with  her  own  courage,  to  inspire 
hope  in  all  the  castaways :  "I  am  glad  to  go ! 
I  have  a  feeling  that  these  are  now  true  men 
all! — for  whatever  venture  lies  ahead,  I  have 
no  fear!" 

The  watching  mutineers  had  been  so  silent 
that  her  clear  voice  carried  far.  It  reached 
the  lone  banqueter  at  the  emperor's  table. 

"Sazarac,"  he  muttered.  "Still,  Saz-a-rac. 
I,  too,  have  my  honor — he  can  still  play  Saz 
arac — the  elegant  and  chivalrous  Sazarac — 
to  the  end." 

For  in  that  one  thing  the  jester  had  ruled 
the  outlaw  crew.  He  had  soberly  and  stub 
bornly  pleaded  and  insisted;  he  had  even 


MONSIEUR— OF  THE  CANNON  SHOT  243 

pointed  his  rusty,  empty  horse  pistol  at  their 
grinning  heads  and  ordained  that  the  English 
woman  must  not  be  told  the  truth  of  Sazarac. 
He  had  sat  in  their  council  to  plead  for  her 
life  and  the  honor  of  his  friend  when  he 
knew  the  mutiny  could  not  be  averted.  He 
had  won,  and  he  had  sent  her  away  .  .  . 
still  under  the  spell  of  Sazarac,  the  protect 
ing  arm  of  Sazarac. 

The  dip  of  the  longboat's  oars  grew  fainter, 
died  to  silence.  The  Emperor  of  the  Bottle 
began  to  consider  mordantly  why  he  had  not 
kept  her  when  he  might?  As  a  Sazarac  might 
do,  or  any  freebooting  adventurer  ...  or 
even  any  strong  man  who  loved?  That  was 
it — he  didn't  know  how;  he  didn't  even  know 
how  to  address  a  word  to  her,  hardly  look  at 
her.  Presently  he  blamed  his  failure  to-night 
on  having  been  embarrassed  by  his  satin 
waistcoat,  or  his  neglect  at  shaving  for  a  week 
.  .  .  something  was  always  the  matter,  and  it 
was  always  a  trifle. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A  FLOWER  FOR  A  RAGGED  FELLOW 

THE  longboat  made  a  shallow  pass  between 
two  curving  reefs  of  dreary  sand,  rising  to 
wind-twisted  mangrove  clumps  at  the  higher 
points,  and  was  beached  in  a  quiet  lagoon. 
The  red  sunrise  found  them  there  marooned; 
silent  men  wandering  over  the  waterless 
spaces  and  then  coming  back  near  to  a  shelter 
canvas  which  had  been  roped  to  the  bushes 
for  Mademoiselle  Lestron.  Then  the  last  lieu 
tenants  of  Lafitte  sat  apart  to  discuss  the 
matter. 

The  Seraphine  lay  plainly  visible  west  and 
north,  her  sails  idle  and  a  flat,  smooth  coast 
al  tide  between. 

"She'll  be  beating  off  with  the  morning 
breeze,"  growled  Bohon.  "She  moves  to  a 
feather,  and  it's  beginning  to  stir  a  bit.  What 
is  this  shore,  Beluche?  You  have  clubbed  a 
prize  along  it  you  say  in  the  old  days." 
244 


A  FLOWER  FOR  A  RAGGED  FELLOW  245 

"An  evil  shore.  A  nest  o'  savages  with 
whom  we  could  not  parley!" 

"How  much  water  did  Crackley  leave  to 
us?" 

"Two  casks;  bread  and  the  salt  horse  for 
three  days — no  more.  We  count  six  muskets 
and  twelve  pistols.  When  the  Indians  put  off 
from  the  woods  to  spy  us  out  we  can  hold  'em 
off  a  bit." 

"Aye,  for  what?  Where's  a  river  mouth  to 
make?" 

"There  is  none  the  Spaniards  do  not  hold. 
There  is  no  cove  either  way  where  you  would 
not  find  the  king's  men.  The  rest  is  jungle. 
.  .  .  What  does  the  captain  say  to  it?" 

The  old  fellows  looked  at  the  lady's  shelter 
tent.  From  the  beached  longboat  other  men 
were  wearily  carrying  ashore  the  scanty  sup 
plies  left  to  the  exiles.  Dominique  and  De 
Almonaster  came  from  the  shade  of  the  man 
grove  clumps  and  nodded  to  the  group.  Old 
Dominique  puffed  his  long  pipe  tranquilly. 

"What  does  Captain  Jean  make  of  it?"  re 
peated  Bohon  to  them. 

"There  is  nothing  to  make  of  it,"  returned 
the  alderman.  "Eh,  bien!  A  little  while  of 


246  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

waiting — a  day  or  two,  old  robbers,  in  the  sun 
and  without  the  water.  At  that,  something 
will  be  tried.  Leave  it  to  Jean  that  something 
will  be  tried  for  ye  all.  The  lady  is  at  break 
fast  with  the  captain,"  he  muttered  irrele 
vantly.  "He  has  toasted  the  bread — he  has 
made  the  coffee  himself  for  the  English  lady. 
Name  o'  God! — I  have  witnessed  that!" 

De  Almonaster  stood  apart  from  them, 
peering  at  the  dim  blue  forest  wall  far  over 
the  inlet  waters  southward.  "It  is  fifty 
leagues  to  Progresso,  is  it  not,  Monsieur 
Beluche,  and  the  Spanish  governor?" 

"It  is  fifty  leagues  to  death,"  grunted  the 
admiral.  "Hell's  bells!  I  had  rather  take  the 
swamps  and  meet  a  Spaniard  trader  loading 
dyewoods — though  there  would  be  no  differ 
ence.  We  have  not  food  nor  water  to  put  off 
shore  with,  and  nothing  to  meet,  if  we  did !" 

"Captain  Sazarac  is  calling  to  you,"  ob 
served  the  count.  "Now,  go,  all — there  is  a 
message." 

They  went  slowly,  trudging  through  the 
sands  with  dry  muttered  jests  and  hopeless 
prophecies.  Men,  for  the  most  part,  past  the 
prime  of  life ;  some  heavy,  indeed,  with  years, 


A  FLOWER  FOR  A  RAGGED  FELLOW  247 

coming  before  their  captain  with  an  endeavor 
to  assume  a  sprightly  seaman's  bearing. 
Faithful,  rugged,  implacable  faces — adven 
turers  who  had  given  their  wild  youth  to  him. 

"It  is  in  my  mind  to  put  the  English  lady 
and  my  friend,  Monsieur  de  Almonaster,  in 
the  way  of  safety,"  said  the  chief  quietly. 
"There  is  a  chance  for  them.  The  rest — I, 
and  you — "  He  stopped  and  smiled  at  them. 

There  was  a  shout.  "I — and  you!"  Jean 
with  them?  Nez  Coupe  came  closer,  tying 
tight  the  bloody  silken  head  scarf  about  his 
seal-brown  skull.  His  wound-wrecked  face 
took  a  ghastly  grin.  They  would,  then,  still 
be  rid  of  the  English  woman  by  some  miracle ! 
Jean  would  shake  free  of  his  burden  of  the 
English  woman  .  .  .  and  be  with  them  once 
again? 

"It  can  be  established  that  Monsieur  de  Al 
monaster  is  of  Spanish  lineage;  and  that 
Mademoiselle  Lestron  is  of  a  mission  that  was 
working  in  the  pay  of  the  Spanish  king — " 
went  on  Captain  Sazarac  evenly.  "If,  then — 
they  could  reach  a  ship — a  dyewood  port  on 
this  deserted  coast — it  is  probable  they  would 
find  refuge.  The  rest—" 


248  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

And  again  the  shout  of  grim  humor  cut  him 
off.  The  rest!  Why,  the  rest  could  expect 
the  reef,  the  tropic  sun  .  .  .  and  their  cap 
tain!  Still  their  sour,  hopeless  humor.  Cer 
tainly  there  was  nothing  for  the  rest  of  them ! 

But  now  the  English  woman  came  out  of 
the  hot  little  shelter.  She  wore  the  captain's 
sea  cap  of  blue  and  gold  as  if  it  had  been 
needful  to  keep  her  brown  hair  from  stray 
ing;  and  they  murmured  at  her  loveliness 
again,  even  though  she  was  pale  from  sleep 
lessness.  She  had  been  stubbornly  question 
ing  him,  and  had  found  nothing  save  a  smiling 
irony  at  the  things  she  had  proposed  to  do. 

"Now,  you  will  listen  to  me,  also,  men  of 
the  Seraphine!"  she  cried  suddenly.  "To  me 
as  well  as  to  your  captain !  Surely  there  is  a 
way  for  us  after  these  treacherous  mutineers 
put  off  with  the  schooner!  Surely,  I  know 
your  faithfulness  to  him  and  to  your  ship! 
What  is  there  to  fear  for  seamen  who  serve 
loyally  their  master  and  their  ship?" 

They  listened  curiously.  Monsieur,  the 
captain,  pushed  back  the  iron-gray  hair  from 
his  temple  and  listened.  It  was  as  if  he  had 
heard  it  all  and  had  no  more  answer  than  they. 


A  FLOWER  FOR  A  RAGGED  FELLOW  249 

"See,  you !"  The  girl  went  on  hotly.  "Mon 
sieur  Sazarac,  playing  the  part  of  a  patriot  to 
his  adopted  country!  I — an  English  Tory — 
can  testify  to  that !  The  attack  upon  the  Gen- 
aron — surely  I  can  swear  to  the  admiralty  of 
my  country,  that  it  was  done  for  me — in  all 
honor.  Monsieur  Sazarac's  honor — " 

There  was  a  stir  among  them — then  the  si 
lence  again.  Old  Dominique  sighed.  The 
honor  of  Sazarac  .  .  .  the  word  of  Captain 
Sazarac  to  the  admiralties  that  his  men  were 
good  and  true! 

"For  me — in  all  honor.  By  you  all — honor 
able  men — " 

Again  she  was  puzzled  by  their  stir  and 
murmur.  The  grim  Baratarians  rubbed  their 
heads  in  doubt  themselves.  Beluche  walked 
away  and  began  to  cut  at  the  grass  with  his 
saber,  idly.  Nez  Coupe  joined  him,  feeling  of 
his  wreck  of  a  nose. 

"You  see,  thief" — grunted  the  admiral — 
"what  the  English  woman  makes  of  us — hon 
orable  men!  There  is  nothing  to  that  .  .  . 
we  will  never  make  a  British  ship  nor  British 
port  if  there  was.  Name  o'  God! — what 
talk!" 


250  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

The  English  woman  knew  she  was  failing 
with  them.  In  fact,  she  had  nothing  to  say 
except  some  formless,  groping  idea  of  hope, 
of  gratefulness,  of  understanding  with  this 
strange,  faithful,  evil  crew  of  Monsieur  Saz- 
arac. 

Monsieur  Sazarac  was  looking  at  her  pity 
ingly.  Monsieur  de  Almonaster,  with  folded 
arms,  quietly  attentive,  his  calm  face  unread 
able. 

And  suddenly  this  dull  impasse  was  cut 
through  with  a  shout.  Gorgio,  on  the  highest 
dune,  was  pointing  seaward.  "She  is  coming 
in !  She  is  making  the  inlet  wi'  tide  and  tops'il 
air!" 

The  Seraphine  was  moving.  Then  there 
was  another  shout.  Above  her,  in  the  misty 
offing,  another  sail  showed,  dimly  and  slowly 
under  way. 

"The  Spanish  frigate,  sir!"  cried  Bohon. 
"Standing  in  close  as  she  dares,  to  look  the 
schooner  over!  Crackley  must  ha'  hammered 
her  rudder  on  the  bar  last  night — I  see  a  false 
rig  over  her  end.  She's  fouled,  and  he's  lay 
ing  her  up  in  the  wooded  river  out  o'  the 
king's  big  guns !" 


A  FLOWER  FOR  A  RAGGED  FELLOW  251 

The  exiles  watched,  and  presently  there 
leaped  a  dull  flash  in  the  morning  mists  far 
beyond  the  Seraphine,  the  sullen  burst  of  the 
king's  cannon.  But  the  schooner  slowly  came 
in  past  the  reefs  to  the  forest  river. 

De  Almonaster  shrugged;  it  meant  the  end 
of  flight  or  hiding  for  those  marooned  on  the 
open  reef.  "Ah,  well! — "  he  glanced  about: 
"Mademoiselle,  our  honorable  gentlemen  may 
well  look  aghast!"  He  laughed,  but  to  the 
chief  he  muttered:  "Monsieur  Sazarac,  we 
might  as  well  build  a  fort  in  the  sands  and 
sell  our  lives  dearly.  If  not  the  Spaniards,  it 
will  be  the  Gampeche  savages  coming  out 
upon  us.  If  not  them,  starvation  and  the  sun 
in  a  few  days.  There  is  no  water  on  this 
reef,  Monsieur!" 

Mademoiselle  had  listened.  De  Almon- 
aster's  tone  was  light,  as  if  proposing  a  trifle 
at  Maspero's.  It  appeared  as  if  both  the  gen 
tlemen  were  affecting  a  debonair  nonchalance 
for  her  sake.  Monsieur  Sazarac's  shrug  was 
of  delicate  dissent  to  discuss  their  lives'  end 
in  her  presence.  Then  he  smiled  distantly: 

"You  will  recall  the  instruction  I  once  gave? 
You  were  to  be  my  prisoner,  Monsieur,  in 


252  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

event  the  Seraphine  was  taken  on  the  seas? 
You  were  to  be  as  one  held  to  an  unlawful 
affair  against  your  will — " 

De  Almonaster  flushed  to  his  eyes :  "Mon 
sieur!  Do  you  think  that  I — "  he  stopped. 
Sazarac  could  not  offer  him  life  lightly  in  her 
presence ! 

"Undoubtedly  the  Spaniard  will  accept  you 
and  Mademoiselle  Lestron.  Monsieur  Dom 
inique,  also — a  municipal  officer  of  New  Or 
leans  .  .  .  there  is  no  reason  why  the  Span 
iard  should  not  receive  and  protect  you." 

"And  you?"  The  younger  man  could  not 
help  the  whispered  question. 

Monsieur  Sazarac  laughed.  It  rang  out 
lightly  indeed.  De  Almonaster  had  never 
heard  such  care-free  amusement  on  a  man's 
lips.  It  stung  him  as  if  he  had  asked  a  child's 
question  on  predestination. 

"I  take  it  that  the  Spaniards  will  attack  the 
Seraphine  in  those  woods  and  leave  no  soul 
living  on  her.  I  assume  that  the  mouth  of 
every  scoundrel  on  her  will  be  closed  by 
death.  Then  you — with  Mademoiselle  Les 
tron  to  the  frigate — and  say  that  you  were  ma- 
rooned  by  the  buccaneers,  and  claiming  pro 
tection.  Why,  the  Spanish  governor  at 


A  FLOWER  FOR  A  RAGGED  FELLOW  253 

Merida,  or  Vera  Cruz,  must  know  of  Carr's 
plot!  Surely  he  would  welcome  Madem 
oiselle  Lestron  and  her  friends !" 

"Why,  are  you  not,  Monsieur,  also  my 
friend,  and  protected  with  me?"  the  girl  cried 
wonderingly.  "It  is,  indeed,  a  fair  story — an 
intrigue  to  save  us  all!  Why  did  I  not  think 
the  Spaniards  would  protect  us  when  they 
will  suppose  that  I  am  still  in  the  plot  of 
Carr's  purpose  to  aid  their  schemes?  Mes 
sieurs,  I  can  safeguard  you  all  to  Vera  Cruz 
with  that  plea!" 

They  all  heard  her.  But  a  silence  fell.  The 
girl  looked  eagerly  from  one  weathered  face 
to  another  of  Monsieur  Sazarac's  few  fol 
lowers.  De  Almonaster,  whose  face  had 
lighted  joyously  as  her  own,  with  her  words, 
pressed  his  sword-knot  to  his  lips  and  turned 
away.  The  Admiral  Beluche  bowed  awk 
wardly.  Dominique  rubbed  his  chin.  Nez 
Coupe  screwed  up  his  ghastly,  wound- 
wrecked  face,  and  Johanness  shook  his  head. 
And  they  all  looked  at  the  commander  .  .  . 
there  was  not  a  man  of  the  lot  whose  blood 
was  not  worth  a  pocket  of  gold  in  any  port  of 
New  Spain! 

And   suddenly  Monsieur  Sazarac  laughed 


254  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

again.  Aloud  and  clearly.  He  arose  and  ad 
justed  his  neckerchief.  There  was  a  gasp,  a 
grumbling  bewilderment,  and  then  laughter 
from  all  the  old  buccaneers.  They  slapped 
each  other  on  the  shoulders,  grinning  know 
ingly  at  their  chief. 

"My  compliments  to  the  lady!"  shouted 
Johanness,  "but  the  climate  o'  Vera  Cruz — my 
lungs  are  delicate!" 

"And  I  mind  that  I  might  have  a  humor  o' 
the  blood  were  I  there!"  mocked  Bohon. 

"My  head — "  complained  the  sour  Nez 
Coupe,  "the  rest  of  it  might  go  a-twist  at 
sight  of  the  governor's  castle!" 

Mademoiselle  turned  to  the  captain  hotly: 
"What  is  this  jesting?" 

"They  mean  no  disrespect."  He  motioned 
to  the  grinning  crew  with  a  serious  affection : 
"Now,  get  you  gone,  fellows!  See  that  our 
wine  and  little  water  is  stored  from  the  sun. 
Work  the  longboat  closer  in  on  the  tide." 

"Sazarac!"  they  shouted  in  hoarse  laughter 
and  went  to  obey  him. 

He  saw  the  hurt  pride  in  her  eyes,  and  the 
old  wonder  at  his  evasion. 

She  turned  to  De  Almonaster  with  a  pathe- 


A  FLOWER  FOR  A  RAGGED  FELLOW  255 

tic  little  gesture  of  despair  at  the  moods  of 
Monsieur  Sazarac.  Monsieur  Sazarac  had  fol 
lowed  his  ragged  men  to  the  stores  and  the 
longboat  in  the  shallows. 

"They  will  die,  Monsieur,  if  they  remain 
here.  Why  will  he  not  go  with  me — why  will 
they  elect  to  stay  with  him,  when  I  offer  a 
way  of  life  to  them  all  ?" 

"It  is  the  honor  of  men  who  have  no  honor," 
said  Raoul  gravely.  "You  would  not  win  one 
of  them  from  his  side  if  you  did  offer  life 
itself!" 

She  could  not  understand.  She  sat  drawing 
figures  in  the  sand,  and  when  she  raised  her 
dark  eyes,  to  watch  the  tall  figure  out  by  the 
sun-wash  on  the  shoals,  the  young  man  saw 
the  great  tears  in  them  which  she  presently 
wiped  away. 

"Louise!"  Raoul  cried.  He  sprang  to  her 
side;  his  arms  yearned  to  hold  and  comfort 
her  .  .  .  and  she  kept  looking  past  him  to 
Monsieur  Sazarac  who  laughed  lightly  at  her 
buoyant  scheme  for  his  life. 

"Why  will  he  treat  me  so?"  she  cried.  "Am 
I  a  child  to  be  fooled  with  smiles  that  hide — 
ah,  well ! — I  don't  know  what  he  hides !" 


256  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

And  Raoul  could  not  say  .  .  .  even  as  he 
knew.  He  could  not  even  make  to  touch  her 
hand  after  he  saw  her  look  upon  Sazarac,  the 
gamester,  who  had  come  to  this  death  upon 
a  blazing  Campeche  reef  for  her  .  .  .  and 
laughed  and  turned  aside  with  some  mighty 
throb  of  man's  love  for  the  ragged  men  who 
followed  him. 

She  dried  her  eyes  with  a  final,  resolute  lit 
tle  sob.  "Monsieur,  do  you  know — well,  once, 
he  came  for  me  ...  it  was  on  the  staircase 
of  a  court — the  Hotel  Orleans,  and  very  late. 
He  was  going  from  me,  and  he  had  been  all 
chivalry.  He  turned  away,  allowing  Colonel 
Carr  to  boast  that  Sazarac  would  not  fight, 
because  he  wished  to  spare  my  name.  He 
said — ah,  it  was  a  silly  thing  for  me  to  do ! — 
but  I  dropped  a  flower  to  him  as  he  left  .  . 
and  another  man  stumbled  from  the  shad 
ows  and  picked  it  up." 

"Another  man?"  echoed  De  Almonaster. 

"That  was  before  you  had  come  to  me, 
Raoul,  on  the  Seraphine.  As  to  the  other 
man,  that  was  no  matter.  I  suppose  a  beggar 
in  the  courtyard  caught  my  camellia.  I  don't 
know — it  was  silly  to  throw  a  flower  to  Saz- 


A  FLOWER  FOR  A  RAGGED  FELLOW  257 

arac,  the  river  gamester  ...  I  was  hot  with 
shame  afterward  at  doing  so.  But  if  he  had 
caught  it  ...  Ah,  well!  I  thank  Heaven  he 
never  knew  it! — after  I  found  myself  in  his 
hands  upon  the  Seraphine!  The  ragged  fel 
low  who  caught  it,  stared  up  once  and  then 
hurried  after  Monsieur  Sazarac.  At  the  area- 
arch  he  turned.  It  appeared  he  tried  to  pose 
as  a — lover,  and  then  he  fell  over  his  own  foot, 
or  something,  very  absurdly!" 

"A  ragged  fellow,"  muttered  De  Almonaster. 

"Like  one  of  these  old  tattered  followers. 
A  ghost  of  a  man  fading  into  moonlight!" 

"Monsieur  Sazarac  is  one  followed  by  old 
ghosts  who  fade  into  more  than  moonlight. 
Ah,  that  ghost  who  played  the  Romeo  after 
Sazarac! — who  would  pose  with  the  assur 
ance  and  courtliness  of  Sazarac!  I  am  almost 
put  to  envy  both  of  them!" 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean,  Monsieur!" 

"They  both  stick  in  your  memory  because 
of  their  mystery,"  the  young  man  said.  Then 
he  swept  upon  her  passionately  and  then 
withheld  from  the  touch  to  her  hand. 
"Louise !  When  a  thing  comes  to  pass,  I  shall 
say  I  love  you !" 


258  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

"Monsieur!  Be  still — he  is  coming  back. 
And  what  is  that  noise?" 

He  tried  dumbly  to  discover  whether  the 
startled  look  in  her  eyes  was  because  of  his 
words,  the  approach  of  Sazarac,  or  the  rolling 
reverberations  of  a  cannon  shot  that  broke  on 
the  still  air. 

A  shout  arose  from  the  exiles  who  were 
dragging  the  longboat  nearer  in  the  shoals. 
Monsieur  Sazarac  had  paused  half-way  to 
them.  He  saw  what  had  hitherto  been  hidden 
by  a  low  spit  of  sand. 

Five  armed  boats  had  drawn  inshore,  com 
ing  from  the  distant  Spanish  frigate,  without 
doubt.  They  had  crept  unnoticed  by  the 
refugees  on  the  reef  until  they  were  fair  in  the 
break  of  forest  wall  where  there  had  been  the 
last  glimpse  of  the  Seraphim's  snowy  sail. 

"Do  you  see,  Monsieur  de  Almonaster?" 
said  the  chief  of  the  exiles  quietly.  "It  was  as 
I  reasoned.  The  schooner  will  be  taken  this 
night.  It  is  what  one  would  greatly  desire. 
The  dons  will  have  no  quarter  for  Grackley's 
men — there  is  no  escape  for  them  in  the  river 
jungle.  After  the  affair,  sir — you  are  to  go 
with  Mademoiselle  and  parley  with  the  Span 
ish  captain." 


A  FLOWER  FOR  A  RAGGED  FELLOW  259 

"And  you?"  Mademoiselle  cried  again 
breathlessly  and  sprang  erect  upon  the  sands. 
"You  and  your  men  can  not  stay  here  to  die !" 

Monsieur  Sazarac  smiled  with  a  high 
serenity.  "The  sea  is  wide,  Mademoiselle 
Lestron.  Wide,  and  far  is  the  way  to  its  se 
cret  places.  I  have  a  mind  I  said  this  once  to 
you.  A  little  place  in  the  sea — a  secret  place, 
where  a  secret  may  be  buried,  Mademoiselle." 
He  turned  to  the  younger  man:  "You  will 
make  ready  to  go,  Monsieur,  when  the  hour 
comes.  There  are  two  black  men  of  our  com 
pany  who  can  pull  the  longboat  for  you  under 
a  flag  of  truce  .  .  .  two  black  serving  men 
who  will  not  find  the  air  of  Vera  Cruz  con 
ducive  to  a  fatal  malady.  The  rest  of  us,  I 
fear,  must  do  without  the  ministrations  of  the 
Spanish  viceroy's  physician  as  long  as  we  can 
— possibly  a  day  or  so  more,  ere  the  doctor 
calls  for  us." 

His  smile  still  lingered  when  De  Almon- 
aster  came  closer,  torn  by  a  wild  bitterness 
which  he,  himself,  could  not  fathom.  "Jean," 
he  whispered:  "I  have  not  spoken.  The 
choice  is  hers  between  you  and  me — and  she 
might  save  you  from  Murillo's  men!  She 


260  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

might  plead  with  the  viceroy  that  she  loved 
you — even  Lafitte  of  the  black  flag!" 

"That  is  a  jest,"  murmured  Sazarac  ab 
sently,  "worthy  of  John  Jarvis  who  played 
the  clown  to  betray  me — a  plea  for  Lafitte's 
life  toMurillo!" 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  BOTTLE  EMPEROR  RETURNS 

STRETCHED  on  the  sand-dunes,  with  his  eye 
to  the  sea-glass  through  which  he  had  pa 
tiently  scanned  the  forest  shore  for  an  hour, 
even  though  the  tropical  dark  was  swiftly 
coming,  Nez  Coupe  grunted  to  the  silent  group 
around  him. 

"That  last  shot  was  the  port  carriage  gun — 
the  twenty-four-pounder — and  I  heard  her 
speak  only  once  before.  Bohon,  that's  a  gun 
ner's  ear  for  you !" 

"Jarvis's  gun,"  retorted  the  Portuguese,  and 
the  castaways  laughed.  "Jarvis's  shot  that 
clipped  the  British  bark!  There  go  the  Span 
iards'  small  arms  again.  I  say  the  dons 
should  be  fair  closing  on  the  decks  by  now!" 

Across  the  mile-wide  lagoon  in  the  still  hot 

dusk  the  last  buccaneers  of  Lafitte  listened 

to  the  battle  in  the  forest  river.    The  rattle  of 

musketry,  and  then  the  boom  of  the  Sera- 

261 


262  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

phine's  carronades.  And  strange  as  it  fell 
out,  the  castaways  wished  for  the  Spaniards 
to  win.  They  had  no  hope  of  escape  for  them 
selves,  but  their  hatred  of  Crackley's  mutin 
eers  was  stronger  than  their  hereditary  feud 
with  the  sea  power  of  the  Spanish  king. 

"A  pretty  pass  if  the  louts  did  drive  the 
boats  away,"  growled  Bohon.  "But,  no!  The 
frigate  would  send  more — she's  a  thirty-four 
gun  vessel,  and  packed  with  the  king's  sol 
diers  bound  to  the  rebel  wars.  No,  bullies — 
Mad  John  Jarvis  has  fired  his  first  shot  and 
his  last  shot.  He'll  burn  in  chains  at  a  yard- 
arm  with  the  others,  when  the  dons  fire  the 
ship." 

"He  will  request  that  they  allow  him  to 
wear  his  new  waistcoat,"  muttered  the 
Catalan  gunner.  And  the  troubled  laugh  went 
about.  They  knew  the  Jarvis  of  the  old  days. 
The  wine-shop  wit,  the  crony  of  the  smug 
glers'  agents  in  New  Orleans;  the  one  free 
spirit  who  came  and  went  between  the  city 
and  the  buccaneers'  stronghold  at  Grand 
Terre  Island — who,  now  and  then,  had  put  to 
sea  with  a  nameless  marauder  to  lie  in  the 
paths  of  the  Spanisji  merchantmen,  but  ask- 


THE  BOTTLE  EMPEROR  RETURNS   263 

ing  nothing,  accepting  nothing  of  the  free 
booter's  spoil;  the  protege  and  mocking 
friend  of  the  brothers  Lafitte  of  Barataria; 
the  object  of  unabated  protest  and  surveil 
lance  by  the  fuming  port  authorities  who  yet 
had  feared  to  lay  hands  upon  the  court  jester 
of  the  privateers. 

"Jean  would  have  hanged  him  on  the  Sera- 
phine  if  the  dons  had  not,"  said  Bohon: 
"friendship  never  counted  with  the  chief 
aboard  a  ship." 

"No,  gallows-bird!  Jean  was  sore  trou 
bled — I  never  saw  a  man  so  secretly  hurt  as 
Jean  at  this  betrayal.  Eh,  well! — the  fool's 
end  has  come — and  here  are  we  in  no  better 
plight." 

So  the  fugitives  lay  and  listened  to  the  dis 
tant  battle  for  the  rescue  ship  of  Bonaparte. 
At  times,  behind  the  fringe  of  forest  swamp, 
arose  the  crash  of  musket  fire,  and  then  the 
bark  of  the  Seraphine's  guns.  And  presently 
this  last  ceased;  the  ragged  volleys  of  small 
arms  burst  irregularly,  died  out,  renewed ;  be 
came  single  shots  blotted  out  by  the  tropic 
silence.  The  Catalan  swung  to  his  feet  and 
;tied  his  bloody  head  scarf  tighter. 


264  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"I  say  it  is  the  end.  Murillo's  men  are 
swarming  over."  It  seemed  that  a  faint  burst 
of  cheering  came  from  under  the  landward 
stars.  Nez  Coupe  beckoned  to  his  fellows. 
"The  captain  will  want  the  word  back  at  the 
lady's  shelter  tent.  He  will  send  her  and  the 
young  gentleman  to  intercept  the  Spaniards' 
boats  when  they  come  out  the  pass  to  regain 
the  frigate.  Now,  watch  for  the  fire  behind 
the  trees — ye  see  the  red  ghost  of  a  good 
ship!" 

But  presently  the  captain,  himself,  and 
Beluche,  the  admiral,  came  through  the  deep 
sand  and  grass  hummocks  to  this  outlying 
point  of  the  reef. 

"You  make  out  that  the  affair  is  done?"  in 
quired  the  former.  "No,  there  is  a  shot." 

They  waited  silently.  The  low  murmur  of 
the  gentle  surf  on  the  outer  fringe  of  sand  was 
all  the  sound  upon  the  utter  calm  of  the  night. 

"It  is  over,"  muttered  Bohon.  "I  would 
have  given  my  right  hand  to  have  seen  Crack- 
ley  cutlassed  and  flung  to  the  sharks.  And 
Jarvis,  the  fool — gibing  them  to  the  last !  The 
wastrel  had  his  sea  fight,  eh?" 

The  leader's  dark  face  winced.    He  raised 


THE  BOTTLE  EMPEROR  RETURNS      265 

his  hand  as  if  to  still  this  jesting  about  the 
jester  of  the  rue  Royale,  the  Emperor  of  the 
Bottle,  who,  at  last,  did  sit  in  the  chair  they 
had  ordained  for  an  emperor  himself. 

"Come,  you,"  he  muttered.  "There  is  much 
to  do.  You  die  here — all  of  you  upon  this 
sand,  without  doubt.  The  Spaniards  will  spy 
us  out  to-morrow  and  there  is  no  man  of  us 
all  who  cares  to  fall  into  their  hands  alive." 

"The  longboat,"  whispered  Clark,  the  fair 
young  English  lad,  staring  wide-eyed  into  the 
dark.  "We  might  work  away  down  the  coast, 
sir,  to  some  port!" 

"There  is  not  a  friendly  hand  upon  these 
shores,  or  in  all  the  ports,  lad."  Lafitte 
turned  to  the  English  boy.  "Come,  tell  me, 
now !  Why  did  you  desert  the  king's  ship,  and 
dirty  an  honest  seaman's  card  for  this  evil?" 

"It — "  Clark  stammered  painfully  as  if  to 
comprehend  this  qualm  in  the  notorious  La 
fitte.  "Well,  it  was  to  join  you,  sir.  I  had 
heard  of  you — it  seemed  a  fair,  last  adventure 
to  find  Jean  Lafitte!" 

Monsieur  Sazarac  smiled:  "Come,  then! 
Lafitte  gives  you  a  chance.  I  choose  you  as 
coxswain  of  the  longboat  that  bears  Madem- 


266  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

oiselle  Lestron.  A  lad — an  English  lad,  may 
get  the  protection  of  an  English  woman." 

"And  the  two  blacks  at  the  oars,"  added 
Johanness.  "The  rest! — eh,  bien!"  He  looked 
about  with  a  vast  pride:  "We  stand  with 
Jean!  The  last  stand  o'  the  last  men  o'  the 
Petral,  here  with  the  Captain  Jean !" 

The  captain  looked  at  him  in  the  starlight. 
Here,  indeed,  on  this  waterless  reef  of  the 
desolate  shore  of  Campeche,  ragged,  hungry, 
ill-armed,  the  last  buccaneers  of  the  long  line 
of  New  World  sea-rovers  watched  his  face 
questioningly.  And  he  laughed  and  spoke  in 
the  old  patois  of  the  islands : 

"Ho,  Slit-Nose!  Is  that  the  word?  And  you, 
Joe  Rigo — Bohon — all  of  you !" 

"You  would  not  have  left  us  for  the  English 
woman,"  growled  Bohon.  "That  is  clear  as 
the  sunshine!  Why,  what  are  we  mewling 
about,  like  children  from  whom  a  sweet  is 
taken?  We  are  not  dead  men  yet — we  are 
stout  fellows  who  yet  may  raise  a  prize  for 
you!" 

"Yes,"  muttered  another,  "once  clear  o'  the 
woman,  and  we  can  face  to-morrow  with  new 
hearts." 


THE  BOTTLE  EMPEROR  RETURNS   267 

"She  shall  go  for  her  own  sake,"  the  master 
answered,  and  a  shout  went  up.  Yes,  they 
were  uneasy  about  Jean  and  the  English  wo 
man.  They  had  all  played  in  this  masque  of 
Sazarac  for  him,  but  they  feared  the  English 
woman.  For  him  they  had  broken  parole, 
cast  away  the  president's  pardon,  and  set 
their  feet  on  the  trail  to  yesterday  .  .  .  but 
they  had  feared  at  the  end,  because  of  the 
witchery  of  the  English  woman.  If  she  placed 
her  white  arms  about  him,  pleaded  in  love, 
for  him  to  go — what  then? 

And  now,  from  the  sea,  there  came  a  single 
signal  gun.  The  frigate  was  invisible,  stand 
ing  off  the  shoals,  but  they  knew  a  thousand 
enemies  were  there. 

"Come,  sirs,"  said  the  chief  in  quiet  author 
ity,  "the  longboat  around  the  point  for  the 
English  woman.  They  shall  row  to  meet  the 
Spaniards  in  the  pass — she  shall  plead  that 
she  and  Monsieur  de  Almonaster  were  the 
prisoners  of  the  mutineers." 

When  he  had  gone  from  the  men  who  has 
tened  at  his  bidding,  he  came  upon  Madem 
oiselle  Lestron  on  the  highest  point  of  the 
sand  before  her  shelter-canvas.  She  was 


268  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

alone,  and  she  saw  his  quick  glance  about. 
"Monsieur  de  Almonaster  has  gone  to  the 
beach — I  sent  him  away,"  she  said  quietly. 

"Away?  Do  you  see  that  light,  Madem 
oiselle,  against  the  forest?  It  means  the 
Spanish  boat  crews  are  returning.  They  have 
taken  the  Seraphine  in  the  river's  mouth. 
You  can  guess  what  has  happened? — there  is 
no  man  living  who  was  upon  her." 

"The  ragged  man,"  she  answered  intently. 
"The  man  who  sat  in  the  emperor's  cabin  and 
kissed  the  bracelet  I  left  there?" 

"The  bracelet?"  He  was  surprised;  he  had 
not  known  of  this. 

"It  belonged,  once,  to  Marie  Antoinette," 
she  went  on  passively.  "The  queen  gave  it  to 
a  member  of  my  family  for  a  service  before 
they  put  her  to  the  guillotine." 

"Why,  then,  did  you  not  speak  when  we  left 
the  ship?  He — he — the  man  would  have 
given  it  to  you." 

"I  did  not  think,"  she  murmured.  "He — 
had  his  lips  to  it."  Then  she  was  silent,  look 
ing  at  the  empty  sea,  the  savage  land.  "I  in 
quired  of  Monsieur  de  Almonaster  ...  he 
laughed  painfully,  and  would  not  answer.  I 


THE  BOTTLE  EMPEROR  RETURNS      269 

could  not  see  the  man's  face  that  night.  Nor 
when  he  jested  on  the  quarter-deck.  But  al 
ways  it  has  seemed  that  some  laughing  spirit 
was  near  me  on  the  Seraphine — a  ghost  far- 
off  from  me,  yet  ever  holding  me  in  his  fancy. 
Is  it  not  strange?  J  can  not  shake  this  feeling 
off." 

"It  is  strange,"  he  answered.  "But  come — 
you  are  going  now." 

"Monsieur  Sazarac!"  she  cried  sharply. 
"Why  do  you  not  speak?" 

"Of  what?"  he  said  simply,  in  no  wonder. 

"Ah,  I  do  not  know !"  The  stars  showed  the 
paleness  of  her  face,  her  luminous  eyes  wide 
up  to  him.  The  web  of  silence  that  had  been 
woven  about  her  was  a  mesh  that  neither 
tears  nor  challenge  had  yet  pierced. 

"I,  too,  am  a  nameless  ghost,"  he  smiled, 
"the  ghost  of  a  man  who  might  have  been! 
Come,  now!  Monsieur  Sazarac  bids  you  re 
spectfully — but  firmly,  to  go.  You  will  obey 
— Monsieur  Sazarac  is  accustomed  to  being 
obeyed.  .  .  .  The  hands  of  Monsieur  Sazarac 
have  been  stained  with  the  blood  of  those 
wrho  chose  not  to  obey.  Is  that  enough  about 
Monsieur  Sazarac,  Mademoiselle?" 


270  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

He  turned  away  to  her  little  tent.  She 
heard  him  giving  instructions  to  the  silent 
black  steward  who  had  been  charged  to  her 
service. 

The  tiny  light  against  the  unseen  forest 
shore  was  growing  plainer.  She  heard  a 
brushing  in  the  coarse  grass.  Raoul  de  Al- 
monaster  drew  out  of  the  starlight  and 
stopped  by  her  with  a  comment.  Apparently 
he  did  not  notice  Monsieur  Sazarac  at  her 
tent  seeing  to  her  few  belongings. 

"He  came  to  you,  did  he  not?"  murmured 
Raoul.  "It  is  the  last  moment.  I  gave  him 
this  to  speak  to  you,  Louise." 

"Why,  what  should  he  speak?"  she  whis 
pered.  "But  then — he  would  not!" 

The  younger  man  misinterpreted.  "He 
loves  you,  and  he  would  not  speak.  Eh,  well! 
It  is  my  honor  to  keep  from  him — and  from 
you.  I  was  his  first  confidant — from  the  very 
first.  When  he  was  about  to  challenge  Carr, 
because  of  you,  I  offered  to  second  him  at  the 
Oaks.  From  the  first,  he  spoke  of  you — and 
he  had  my  pledge  of  honor.  Ah,  but  I  did 
not  know  then  who  the  lady  was — the  pawn 
of  his  game  at  Maspero's — the  lady  he  must 


THE  BOTTLE  EMPEROR  RETURNS   271 

retrieve  from  the  Genaron!  Monsieur  Sazarac 
— at  the  parting  of  the  paths,  one  on  to  peace, 
even,  perhaps,  to  honor  for  a  wounded  name 
— chose  this  to  serve  you,  though  he  knew  it 
meant  the  abyss  opened  for  him !  Is  not  that 
a  love,  Mademoiselle,  that  would  hold  the 
friend  of  Sazarac  to  his  honor?" 

"Tell  me — "  she  whispered  swiftly,  "the 
ragged  fellow  in  the  emperor's  cabin — his 
jests,  his  love — " 

"A  dead  man,  telling  neither  love  nor 
jests — "  Then  the  young  man  turned  hotly  on 
her.  "See,  here!  The  boat  is  making  ready! 
Well,  if  Sazarac  has  your  heart,  Louise,  I  will 
not  go!" 

"Oh,  no! — no — no!"  she  breathed.  "Mon 
sieur — " 

The  figure  of  Monsieur  Sazarac  loomed 
against  the  stars  before  them. 

"Pardon,"  he  said  smoothly.  "It  is  the  time 
for  the  longboat." 

"It  is  damnable !"  De  Almonaster  sprang  to 
grasp  his  sleeve :  "Sir,  a  woman's  part  for  me ! 
I  will  not  go ! — I  will  not  go !" 

Monsieur  Sazarac  looked  from  him  to 
Mademoiselle  Lestron  intently.  It  was  as 


272  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

open  to  them  as  a  blown  rose  to  the  sunshine 
— De  Almonaster  would  not  creep  away, 
saved  by  a  woman's  skirts  among  the  Span 
iards,  and  ever  after  see  in  her  eyes  that  she 
was  holding  in  memory  another  man  who 
died  for  her. 

Monsieur  Sazarac  smiled,  rubbed  his  slen 
der,  bronzed  hands.  "Come — my  children  1" 

"There  is  the  boat,"  muttered  De  Almon 
aster  sullenly.  "The  blacks  at  the  oars,  and 
Clark  at  the  tiller.  The  tide  is  coming  out — 
it  is  an  easy  pull.  Here  is  my  handkerchief 
for  the  truce  flag  on  a  boat-pole."  He  bowed 
quietly:  "Mademoiselle  Lestron  is  going  to 
the  Spanish  captain's  care." 

"Sir?"  said  Sazarac  coolly.  "You— to  that 
boat!" 

A  stealthy  slur  of  steel  and  leather  came  in 
the  silence.  They  saw  the  point  of  De  Al- 
monaster's  rapier  flash  dimly  and  then  held 
to  the  sand. 

"Monsieur  Sazarac,  I  had  the  idea  long  ago 
that,  at  some  hour,  you  and  I  should  fight. 
It  was  as  inevitable  as  anything  could  be.  It 
was  written  by  these  stars  at  the  birth  of  each 
of  us  .  .  as  it  was  written  that  we  each 


THE  BOTTLE  EMPEROR  RETURNS   273 

should  love  a  woman  whom  it  has  been  given 
us  in  our  lives,  to  protect.  Mademoiselle  Les- 
tron  to  the  boat — then,  draw,  with  me,  Mon 
sieur!" 

The  older  man  did  not  stir.  Twice,  then,  in 
so  short  a  time,  he  must  decline  a  challenge 
because  of  her!  It  was  very  odd — he  laughed 
slowly. 

Mademoiselle  had  seemed  dumb  for  the 
moment.  Then  she  sprang,  with  a  hand 
raised  before  De  Almonaster's  blazing  eyes 
and  impetuous  arm. 

But  no  one  of  them  spoke.  They  could 
hear  the  rattle  of  gear  in  the  longboat,  the  low 
voices  of  the  free  blacks.  The  armed  exiles 
were  apart  on  a  distant  sand-dune,  awaiting 
the  master's  disposition  of  this  disturbing  af 
fair  of  the  English  woman.  A  moment  more 
and  they  would  be  shaken  free  of  her,  the  old 
leader  among  them  again,  facing  the  day  to 
come  with  a  light  reckless  heart  as  in  the 
Black  Petral's  time.  They  would  be  glad 
dened  by  the  sight  of  him  ...  if  it  was  the 
last  stand  for  Lafitte's  men,  why  they  were 
here,  all  who  counted,  and  he  with  them ! 

"Well,  then,"  went  on  Monsieur  Sazarac 


274  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

quietly,  "first,  the  lady  for  whom  we  must 
fight — to  the  longboat,  Monsieur  de  Almon- 
aster." 

Her  cry  of  terror  echoed. 

There  came  then,  a  slow  uncertain  trudg 
ing  through  the  reef  grass.  The  figure  of  a 
man  quite  close.  It  was  stooped;  and  pres 
ently  it  staggered  or  stumbled,  rather  ridicu 
lously,  it  appeared,  over  an  empty  scabbard 
which  got  between  its  knees. 

Then  it  came  on,  stopped,  indeed,  fair  be 
tween  the  gentlemen,  looking  with  confused 
wonder  from  one  to  the  other.  The  ragged 
man  put  a  hand  to  his  matted  hair  and  wrung 
out  blood  from  the  tangle;  and  seemed  then, 
more  confused  at  this. 

"Jarvis!"  cried  De  Almonaster,  and  sprang 
to  him. 

"Eh — Raoul?"  The  voice  came  weakly  but 
gathered  strength  as  if  from  some  choked  but 
over-mastering  purpose:  "Well,  I  came  to 
find  you!"  After  that  he  staggered  back  and 
would  have  fallen  if  De  Almonaster  had  not 
eased  him  to  the  sand.  Then  he  rubbed  a 
bloody  hand  across  a  bloody  face  and  drawled 
sleepily:  "Swords  out —  what's  the  matter? 


THE  BOTTLE  EMPEROR  RETURNS   275 

I  say! — what  the  devil?"  He  twisted  about 
painfully.  "I'm  run  through  twice,  I  think — " 

The  captain  had  come  swiftly  to  him. 
"Jarvis!"  He  knelt  and  sternly  sought  the 
other's  eyes.  "Monsieur  de  Almonaster,  will 
you  get  the  brandy  from  the  tent?  What  is 
this,  Jarvis?  What  of  the  Seraphim?  How 
came  you  here?" 

"She  is  coming  out  on  the  tide,"  said  Jarvis 
thickly.  "The  dons  think  to  save  her  as  a 
prize.  Four  boats  are  towing.  Name  o'  God! 
Jean!—  I  had  my  fight!" 

"Tell  me  this,"  retorted  the  other  coldly. 
He  looked  about.  The  figure  of  the  woman 
was  dim  by  the  tent  She  was  assisting  De 
Almonaster  at  the  chest  of  bandages  and 
scanty  supplies  given  them  by  the  mutineers. 
"Jarvis!  You  deserted  me — but,  tell  me  of  the 
Seraphine!" 

"I,  alone,  escaped.  Crackley's  men  fought 
like  wild  savages  when  the  end  came.  The 
last  of  us  took  overboard  to  the  jungle  when 
the  Spaniards  swarmed  aboard.  They  be 
headed  Black  Mike  on  a  gun-block,  and 
hanged  Budge  to  the  shrouds  with  a  fire 
under  him.  They  chopped  old  Mariano,  arm 


276  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

by  arm  and  leg  by  leg — and  Crackley  shot 
himself  to  keep  away  from  them.  I — was  the 
last  who  fell  in  the  river  reeds.  They  did  not 
find  me,  Jean,  and  when  I  got  sense  after 
these  wounds,  I  crawled  to  the  water's  edge.  I 
found  a  dinghy  with  three  dead  Spaniards  in 
it,  and  heaved  them  out.  Then  I  floated  with 
the  tide.  It  bore  me  to  the  reef — I  knew  you 
would  be  here  somewhere.  Curse  me,  it  was 
a  fight!  There  must  have  been  a  hundred  of 
them  and  we  did  for  half!" 

De  Almonaster  forced  the  brandy  to  his 
lips.  "Thank  you,  Monsieur,"  murmured  the 
painter  of  the  rue  Royale.  "This  thrust 
through  my  shoulder — I  would  not  have  had 
it,  but,  after  breaking  a  don's  head,  I  saw  a 
bottle  roll  across  the  deck.  I  must  after  it 
like  a  cat  at  the  cheese,  and  some  other  king 
o'  Spain's  man  put  a  saber  to  me.  Eh,  I 
dropped  the  cognac  with  the  cork  undrawn — 
got  around  and  fought  again.  What  luck  one 
has!" 

He  sighed  wearily.  His  eyes  closed.  The 
English  woman  came  nearer,  and  then  at  a 
sign  from  Monsieur  Sazarac,  she  went  apart 
from  them.  It  would  not  do  for  the  babbler 


THE  BOTTLE  EMPEROR  RETURNS      277 

to  talk  too  much  in  her  hearing.  And  so, 
once  more,  the  ragged  lover  with  the  new 
waistcoat  did  not  see  the  lady  of  the  camel 
lia,  nor  she  him;  for  when  his  eyes  opened 
there  were  but  the  stars  above,  and  the  two 
men's  faces  watching  close  to  his. 

"Come,  gentlemen!"  He  struggled  to  a  sit 
ting  posture  between  them:  "I  came  here 
with  an  idea !  A  most  excellent  idea !" 

"Jarvis,"  retorted  the  captain  quietly,  "you 
are  dying." 

"Eh,  bien!  Are  you  a  physician,  too,  Mon 
sieur  Saz-a-rac,  as  well  as  a  bully-swordsman, 
a  fellow  of  pearl-inlaid  pistols;  a  delicate 
hand  at  the  cards — and  wondrous  speeches  on 
a  lady's  staircase?" 

He  sat  up  straighter  and  shook  himself. 
"Dying?  Now,  see!" 

He  kicked  out  both  mud-swathed  legs, 
clapped  his  hands,  put  a  thumb  to  his  nose 
and  wiggled  his  fingers  at  the  stars.  "Let  me 
up,"  he  drawled  absently.  "I  am  to  tell  you 
what  to  do.  Where  the  devil  is  the  boat,  and 
our  blusterers?  Name  o'  God! — buccaneers 
snoozing  in  the  grass,  and  John  Jarvis  in  a 
bloody  set-to!" 


278  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

And  despite  their  protests  he  did  get  to  his 
feet  unsteadily.  About  all  they  could  see 
were  his  two  eyes  sticking  out  of  a  muck  of 
wet  tangled  hair.  But  these  seemed  to  smile 
comfortingly. 

"Jarvis,  and  his  deck  o'  blood,"  he  mused. 
"Now,  come.  The  Seraphine  is  towing  out 
the  pass.  There  is  hardly  a  man  on  her  ex 
cept  the  wounded  and  the  officers,  for  they 
have  every  arm  at  the  sweeps  in  the  small 
boats.  I  say — we  shall  retake  her,  gentle 
men!" 

They  stared  at  him  unbelievingly.  He 
threw  out  an  arm,  kicked  the  entangling  scab 
bard  from  his  knees  and  blustered  on : 

"Sixteen  there  must  be  of  you!  Six  mus 
kets  Crackley  gave  to  you — and  you  have  pis 
tols  and  cutlasses  around.  Sixteen,  fair- 
armed  and  desperate,  and  a  longboat  in  the 
dark !  If  you  remain  here  Murillo's  men  will 
leave  you  all  to  the  buzzards  to-morrow — I 
know,  I  heard  them  say  there  were  men  of 
Laf itte  alive  on  this  reef !" 

"They  know?"  muttered  thfe  chief. 

"They  guess!  I  say,  we  can  retake  the 
schooner! — the  prize  guard  on  her  is  nothing 


THE  BOTTLE  EMPEROR  RETURNS      279 

—the  teniente  in  command  can  suspect  noth 
ing!  Once  they  lay  her  astern  the  frigate 
there  is  no  hope  for  any  of  you—" 

"We  were  to  send  Mademoiselle  to  the  frig 
ate  in  the  longboat,"  murmured  Raoul. 

"Throw  her  to  the  sharks — they're  kinder 
than  Murillo's  men!  The  Spaniards  think  the 
schooner  was  bound  to  the  rebel  republics  of 
the  south.  They  will  spare  none  who  had  to 
do  with  her — they  blot  out  every  life  that 
could  tell  of  her  taking!" 

He  swung  an  empty  pistol  holster  and  tot 
tered  back  and  forth.  Monsieur  Sazarac 
tapped  De  Almonaster  on  the  shoulder. 

"It  is  the  truth.  It  is  a  chance.  Monsieur, 
our  affair — we  shall  have  to  postpone  it.  And 
damn  your  hot  head!  .  .  .  Will  you  under 
stand  nothing?" 

"Give  me  this  action!  Let  me  be  the  first 
to  board  the  Seraphine — I  shall  show  you, 
Monsieur  Sazarac,  if  I  am  one  to  be  sent  away 
under  the  protection  of  a  woman!" 

"Nom  de  Dieu!  And  for  that  you  would 
fight  me!"  breathed  the  other  softly.  Then 
he  turned  away,  hastening  to  the  outlaws 
'down  the  sand  spit. 


280  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

Jarvis  had  sat  down  again.  He  watched 
the  light  in  the  south — the  Napoleon  ship, 
drawing  slowly  out  on  the  ebb-tide,  with  the 
Spanish  king's  men  at  the  tow-lines. 

"If  they  get  a  wind,"  mumbled  Jarvis,  "we 
are  undone.  Then  I  might  as  well  have  stayed 
and  died  in  the  grass.  I  came  to  save  you 
all—" 

"John!"  cried  De  Almonaster,  "what  mad 
ness  seized  you  to  turn  upon  him  at  the 
pinch?" 

"Eh?"  The  jester  fumbled  for  the  brandy 
bottle.  "I  was  of  a  mind  to  play  this  Sazarac 
— to  swagger  if  but  once  across  a  quarter 
deck,  to  bawl  down  at  some  fool  holystoning 
the  planks;  to  cock  an  eye  up  at  the  weather, 
though,  God  knowrs — the  weather  I  could  wish 
would  be  a  shower  o'  liquor !" 

"You  wrecked  us  all — " 

"I  saved  you  all — "  grunted  Jarvis  indif 
ferently.  "The  dogs  plotted  to  turn  on  Saz 
arac  from  the  moment  she — the — well — "  he 
seemed  plaintively  diffident  at  her  name — 
"well,  the  affair  of  the  Genaron.  I  knew  it. 
They  hardly  kept  it  from  me,  after  the  rum 
I  broached  for  them.  And  once  the — she — 


THE  BOTTLE  EMPEROR  RETURNS   281 

came  aboard  there  was  no  hope  to  stop  trou 
ble.  I  played  the  fool  for  them;  I  roared 
chanteys  in  the  fo'cas'le —  I  outdrank  the 
best  o'  them!  I  made  myself,  as  you  saw — 
the  blanket  adviser  to  them." 

"You  let  them  put  her  adrift  from  the  ship !" 
said  Raoul  sternly. 

"Yes — to  save  her  from  John  Crackley.  To 
save  you  all  from  walking  the  plank.  Well — " 
he  grunted  absently.  "I  see.  You  are  not 
grateful.  No  one  is  grateful.  I  play  the  part 
of  a  Sazarac — save  that  I  can  not  walk  with  a 
sword  betwreen  my  legs — I  boast,  and  pose 
and  swagger  .  .  .  that  is,  I  try,  Monsieur.  You 
recall  the  other  night?  I — alone  on  the  quar 
ter-deck — quite  had  the  stage  to  myself?  I 
was  doing  well  until  my  damned  pistol  went 
off  quite  by  accident.  Discomfited,  I  hurried 
below  and  drank  and  ate  everything  that  had 
been  spread  for  the  four  of  you  at  the  em 
peror's  table.  Eh — what  did  the — she — 
think  of  me,  Monsieur?" 

"She,"  whispered  Raoul  hurriedly,  "appar 
ently  never  saw  you.  That  is,  I  believe  she 
laughed — once — at  something." 

"Name  o'  God !"  breathed  the  jester.    "Ah, 


282  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

well,  of  course!  She  laughed  when  she  saw 
me  hanging  to  the  lamp-post.  On  the  stair 
case — well,  I  could  not  see  plainly.  In  fact, 
I  never  see  her  plainly.  Or  she,  me.  Of 
course — I  am  the  ghost  ...  I  try  to  strut  out 
in  the  brave  light,  but  there  seems  laughter 
always  .  .  .  tilt  up  the  bottle,  Raoul — give 
me  the  last  of  it!" 

"You  are  sore  wounded,  John.  Lie  back. 
Listen!  The  bullies  are  coming.  They  will 
make  the  attack  you  planned.  But  you  are 
weak,  John." 

"Three  wounds — •"  mused  the  other  airily. 
"Still,  I  must  not  be  dead.  I  feel  the  cognac 
running  out  the  holes  the  dons  put  in  me. 
Help  me ! — I  must  be  up !  There  is  Saz-a-rac 
.  .  .  and  is  that— the— she—?" 

He  seemed  suddenly  startled  to  discover  a 
white  cloak  so  close  to  him.  In  fact,  he 
seemed  to  hustle  uncertainly  from  it  around 
to  the  outer  edge  of  the  group  that  gathered 
about  Sazarac  and  Mademoiselle.  And  if  she 
saw  him  at  all;  or  divined  that  the  fellow  of 
the  waistcoat  was  really  this  bloody  figure 
that  had  staggered  to  them  but  a  moment 
since,  it  was  plain  that  he  vanished  from  her 
sight  shortly.  He  had,  indeed,  meant  to 


THE  BOTTLE  EMPEROR  RETURNS   283 

stretch  a  hand  of  authority,  seeing  that  the 
mad  plot  was  his;  to  ring  out  a  swift  and 
pregnant  campaign  worthy  of  a  pistoling  Saz- 
arac,  but  now  he  couldn't.  He  merely  hung 
off  in  the  grass  hummocks,  swamp  mud  and 
his  own  blood  dripping  from  him,  dangling 
an  empty  holster,  and  listening  with  mouth 
agape.  She  put  this  spell  upon  him,  it  must 
have  been  that  at  once,  in  her  presence,  he 
became  a  ghost  of  a  man,  pursuing  his  tat 
tered  mask  of  a  Sazarac  through  his  dreams. 

Certain  it  is  that,  after  the  leader  had  told 
of  the  thing  to  be  done,  and  of  Jarvis's  com 
ing  to  them,  there  was  such  a  puzzled,  and 
then  a  shouting  acclaim  for  the  plan,  that 
every  one  forgot  the  author  of  it. 

"By  Blackbeard  himself!"  roared  Bohon. 
"It  is  a  scheme  that  Jean  Lafitte  would  have 
loved!" 

"Taking  the  vessel  back  amidstream — 
swarming  up  the  chains,  and  at  them!" 
chuckled  Johanness.  "Name  o'  the  devil!  It 
is  the  old  luck  o'  the  Petral!" 

"I  never  had  a  mind  we'd  rot  on  this  reef," 
laughed  a  third.  "Not  with  this — Saz-a-rac 
to  command!" 

They  scattered  to  the  bushes  for  their  few 


284  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

arms  and  ammunition  boxes.  Others  were 
working  the  longboat  from  the  shoals  to 
where  the  adventurers  could  wade  as  she 
settled  with  the  load  of  them  in  deeper 
water.  There  was  hushed  laughter,  grim 
confidence,  a  jousting,  nudging  loyalty  to  the 
quiet  leader.  Two  huge  fellows  carried  Mad 
emoiselle  Lestron  from  the  sands  to  the  boat, 
in  a  chair  formed  of  their  brawny  arms. 
Then  they  pushed  the  longboat  slowly, 
stealthily  out  to  catch  the  run  of  the  ebb-tide. 

"Not  a  man- jack  of  us  will  live  if  the  rush 
fails,"  growled  Bohon,  at  the  tiller.  "Now  lay 
to,  and  kill  the  drip  o'  oars — and  not  a  breath 
till  we  come  under  the  counter  and  Sazarac 
gives  the  boarding  word!" 

"Sazarac,"  whispered  De  Almonaster.  He 
was  on  a  mid-thwart  with  Mademoiselle  Les 
tron  at  his  side.  His  hand  sought  hers  in  the 
close  press  of  the  adventurers  crowded  in  the 
longboat.  She  did  not  resist  .  .  .  but  she  did 
not  return  his  pressure.  She  was  merely 
calm,  watchful,  trusting  to  the  skill  and  cour 
age  of  Sazarac. 

"Sazarac,"  breathed  another  one,  huddled 
up  in  the  bow  at  the  feet  of  Nez  Coupe  who 


THE  BOTTLE  EMPEROR  RETURNS   285 

held  the  boarding-hook.  "Name  o'  God!  If 
I  had  a  sword — but  I  haven't  a  sword — "  And 
the  jester  rubbed  his  dried  blood  off  his 
cheek.  ...  He  remembered  that,  at  his 
first  and  last  sea-fight,  on  the  deck  of  the 
Seraphine,  he  had  killed  two  Spaniards  but 
with  the  oaken  stave  of  a  discarded  rum 
barrel. 

As  for  the  present  exploit  he  had  his  empty 
holster,  a  curious  slow  stiffening  of  his 
wounds,  and  intolerable  cravings  in  his  stom 
ach  for  food  and  drink.  He  tried  to  dwell  on 
something  else  except  the  smell  of  swamp 
mud  and  being  hungry. 

"There's  her  tops'il  above  the  mist,"  hissed 
the  Catalan  lookout.  "Ease  off.  A  wind — a 
touch  of  air — is  fatal  to  us!  In,  lads — I  hear 
their  haul-boats  above  us.  Come,  there's  her 
bulk  in  the  fog!" 

They  saw  the  bloom  of  ghostly,  idle  sail 
against  the  stars.  Now  the  dim  black  line 
along  the  water;  and  then  a  voice  on  the  deck. 
About  the  wheel  there  must  be  a  group  of 
tired  officers  of  the  Spanish  king's  navy  wait 
ing  for  a  cap  of  wind  to  aid  the  prize  from 
the  shoal  coast. 


286  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

De  Almonaster  felt  a  pressure  on  his  hand. 
He  bent  his  head. 

"Monsieur — your  pistol.  Give  it  to  me — I 
will  not  fall  in  their  hands  alive— if  we  fail !" 

"We  will  not  fail,"  he  whispered  moodily. 
"Why— with  Sazarac?" 

She  wondered  if  the  silent  leader  at  the 
stern  had  caught  this  bitter  tribute?  There 
was  no  more  speech  for  any  of  them.  The 
girl  was  staring  now,  between  the  press  of 
crouched  figures,  at  the  great  limp  disorder 
of  the  snowy  sails;  it  seemed  but  another  mo 
ment  when  the  muffled  oar  blades  shot  the 
longboat  fair  under  the  schooner's  stern.  Old 
hands  trembled  on  long  unused  weapons; 
there  seemed  a  muttering  and  a  nodding  of 
heads  .  .  .  and  then  a  slight  jar,  the  snap  of 
a  hook  on  a  wooden  rail,  and  up  and  to  the 
Seraphine's  deck  there  slid  a  dozen  silent 
figures,  cutlass  cords  in  teeth,  fingers  to  trig 
gers. 

De  Almonaster  writhed  with  impatience 
awaiting  his  turn.  A  terrified  howl  had  arisen 
from  some  wounded  sailors  lying  in  the 
schooner's  waist,  who  first  caught  sight  of  the 
swarming  figures  in  the  land  mist. 


THE  BOTTLE  EMPEROR  RETURNS   287 

The  huge  Johanness  was  the  first  to  reach 
the  wheel.  The  two  officers  of  the  king  o' 
Spain  had  hardly  turned  surprised  faces  at 
the  footfalls  ere  they  died  gasping  under  his 
two  cutlass  swings.  The  helmsman  cried  out 
and  an  iron  pike  crashed  to  his  teeth. 

And  amidships  a  battle  was  arising. 
Frightened  howls,  incoherent  commands 
from  fleeing  petty  officers;  while  above  it, 
now,  came  the  wild  yell  of  the  gulf  buccaneers 
in  other  days  and  evil: 

"A-Barataria!  A-Barataria!  Lafitte!  La- 
fitte!" 

To  that  cry  these  castaways  had  swarmed 
chains  and  shrouds  of  many  a  ship  now  long 
missing  in  the  ports  of  the  world. 

Save  for  one  obscure  figure,  the  longboat 
held  none  except  Mademoiselle  Lestron.  She 
shrank  lower,  closing  her  ears  against  the 
screams  and  shots  of  the  battle  which  had 
thickened  forward.  The  towing  boats  had 
turned  on  the  hawsers;  they  were  coming 
back.  The  Spanish  king's  men  arose  at  the 
bows,  attempting  to  climb  and  save  their 
helpless  comrades. 

The  shots  and  cries  and  trampling  went 


288  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

on,  and  the  girl  shuddered  at  the  sounds. 
Who  was  winning,  what  had  happened  to  her 
friends,  she  could  not  tell.  But  slowly  there 
was  a  stir  in  the  bow-thwarts.  A  tall  man 
arose,  rubbing  his  eyes  as  if  awakened  from  a 
dispiriting  sleep.  He  stared  about — she  could 
just  see  him  dimly  in  the  starlight,  and  then 
he  climbed  awkwardly,  with  frantic  haste  but 
slowly  after  all — to  the  boarding-ladders. 

He  got  over  the  rail  with  some  difficulty, 
and  then  stopped  as  if  considering  what  he 
should  do  next.  Louise's  startled  eyes  could 
not  make  out  his  face  but  his  uncouth  move 
ments  seemed  familiar  ...  if  she  could  only 
see  his  eyes — whether  they  were  light  or 
dark — or  the  contour  of  his  face,  perhaps, 
she  could  know  .  .  .  then  he  staggered  and 
fell. 

The  girl  upstarted.  The  cries  and  impreca 
tions  seemed  growing  in  volume,  coming 
nearer,  as  if  the  attackers  were  being  driven 
back.  But  she  began  to  climb  the  nearer 
boarding-ladder.  When  she  came  over  the 
rail  she  saw  first  an  indistinct  group  of  strug 
gling  men  forward,  with  here  and  there  the 
flash  of  fire;  and  then,  near  her  on  the  deck, 


THE  BOTTLE  EMPEROR  RETURNS      289 

under  the  dim  light  by  the  main  companion- 
way,  a  man  crawling  along. 

At  the  companionway  he  got  to  his  feet  with 
some  trouble  and  disappeared  below.  The 
girl  ran  back  of  the  after-housing  to  get  away 
from  a  dying  Spaniard  at  her  feet.  There  she 
found  three  other  bodies,  and  the  smooth 
planks  were  slippery  under  her  feet.  She 
fled  the  other  way  from  these  horrors  and 
then  found  herself  by  the  open  skylight  of  the 
main  cabin. 

It  was  brilliantly  lighted  there.  Apparently 
all  the  fury  of  the  two  battles  for  the  Sera- 
phine  had  never  penetrated  to  the  heavy 
splendor  of  rosewood,  silken  tapestries  and 
ormolu  encased  mirrors  of  the  emperor's 
suite.  For  at  the  emperor's  table  sat  the 
ragged  man  she  had  seen  there  once  before. 
He  was  in  the  huge,  carved,  pretentious  chair 
at  the  head  of  the  board.  He  rather  shone 
with  blood  from  a  scalp  wound  under  his 
matted  hair.  Also,  she  saw  that  he  appeared 
to  be  picking  over  the  bones  of  some  rem 
nants  of  a  dish  that  must  have  been  prepared 
for  Crackley's  lieutenants  earlier  in  the  day. 
At  any  rate  the  lone  guest  showed  disappoint- 


290  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

ment.  He  reached  for  the  cognac,  and  then 
lit  a  long  reed  pipe  he  found  on  the  board. 
Then  he  sat  back  and  smoked,  listening  to  the 
distant  sounds  of  the  battle  forward  and 
above  on  the  decks  of  the  Napoleon  ship. 

Mademoiselle  Lestron  turned  away  with 
fearful  curiosity.  She  encountered  a  hurrying 
group  coming  past  the  main-mast.  Panting, 
stumbling,  smoke-grimed  men,  among  whom 
she  saw  the  tall  Sazarac.  He  sprang  to  the 
side  as  if  to  see  to  the  safety  of  the  English 
woman  left  in  the  longboat. 

"Monsieur!"  she  cried,  and  ran  to  him 
frightenedly. 

"There  is  no  man  of  them  left  in  arms !"  he 
shouted,  with  a  brightening  eye.  "The  port 
watch  went  overboard  at  our  rush,  swimming 
for  their  boats.  The  boats  themselves  are 
beaten  back.  Beluche  is  tumbling  their 
wounded  to  a  yawl  that  remains.  Madem 
oiselle,"  he  bowed  to  her,  "you  will  go  below 
away  from  these  abominable  sights.  Come 
— the  Seraphim  is  won!" 

"No — no!"  she  gasped  in  horror  still.  "No 
—not  yet!" 

Sazarac  turned  from  her  for  an  instant  to 
the  wheel  where  an  altercation  seemed  aris- 


THE  BOTTLE  EMPEROR  RETURNS   291 

ing.  Old  Dominique  had  taken  it;  he  was 
shouting,  with  his  eyes  aloft.  "She  is  drawing 
at  the  top!"  the  fat  seaman  bawled.  "A 
man  to  her  shrouds!  A  man — give  me  one 
man!" 

A  silence  had  come,  strangely  silent,  after 
the  fury.  A  groan  or  two,  a  coughing  fellow 
forward  in  the  lee  scuppers.  Dominique  was 
howling  once  more. 

"Damnation!  She's  drawing!  We'll  be  on 
the  sands  with  this!  A  seaman  for  Domi 
nique!  Where  are  ye  all?" 

The  Count  de  Almonaster  suddenly  ap 
peared  past  the  tangle  of  cordage  along  the 
starboard  rail  where  dead  men  were  twisted 
into  rope  and  grimed  sail  cloth.  He  threw 
away  a  broken  small  sword  and  came  on. 

"Mademoiselle!" 

"I  am  not  hurt,"  she  said  faintly.  "You — 
Monsieur!" 

The  roaring  of  Dominique,  the  alderman  of 
New  Orleans,  cut  him  off. 

"Curse  me! — fat — heavy  as  a  lout — and 
here  a  sea  fight  such  as  my  old  eyes  have 
dreamed!  A  ship  o'  blood!  A  ship  o'  death! 
— twice  in  one  day  has  she  been  cleared  o' 
the  dead  louts  fallen  on  her!" 


292  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

Forward,  indeed,  a  man  was  heaving 
corpses  to  the  phosphorescent  waters.  Yet 
the  ship  seemed  curiously  still.  She  was 
drawing  on,  with  Dominique  hauling  at  the 
wheel;  slowly,  and  with  a  sighing  fill  of  limp 
canvas,  a  weary  clatter  of  blocks  .  .  .  sailing, 
somehow,  in  unseamanlike  disorder,  but  out 
of  the  rippling  shallows. 

And  to  the  west  a  heavy  gun  broke  with  a 
spurt  of  fire.  They  heard  the  shot  ride  sul 
lenly  into  the  sand  spit  on  the  port  quarter. 

"A  man  aloft!"  bawled  Dominique.  "Break 
out  wi'  stays!  What's  the  matter  wi'  ye  all?" 

Two  had  gone  aloft.  Clark,  the  young  Eng 
lish  lad,  and  Gorgio,  the  Catalan.  The  latter 
was  crawling  up  slowly,  a  hand  to  shroud  and 
cat-line.  By  the  light  they  could  see  him 
faintly.  Grim,  bloody-faced,  responding  to 
his  last  order. 

"A-Barataria!"  he  howled.     "La—" 

The  Seraphine  suddenly  heeled  with  a  puff 
of  wind  that  came  as  she  cleared  the  shoals. 
It  shook  the  wounded  buccaneer  from  his  fail 
ing  grasp  on  the  rigging.  But  even  in  mid-air, 
Gorgio,  the  Catalan,  repeated  his  call  of  the 
old  days;  then  his  body  heaved  out  and 


THE  BOTTLE  EMPEROR  RETURNS      293 

plunged  to  the  opalescent  waters,  streaking 
like  a  comet  to  the  depths. 

"Damnation!"  growled  Dominique.  "Is 
this  a  dead  ship?  Where  are  the  bullies  that 
I  raise  not  a  man?  Monsieur  de  AlmonasterJ 
Captain  Sazarac!  I  lay  a  course — now  have 
this  ship  worked!" 

"Lay  her  as  she  is,  old  gabbler,"  retorted 
Sazarac.  "Starboard  a  bit — the  mist  is  clos 
ing  on  the  Spaniard,  and  he  can  not  stir  in 
the  air  that  moves  this  beauty!  A  long  trick 
at  your  wheel,  Dominique!" 

Still  the  rotund  politician  would  not  under 
stand.  "Our  lads—"  he  fumed.  "If  I  take 
the  deck  I  want  something  to  work  with.  Mon 
sieur — Sazarac !" 

De  Almonaster  was  holding  his  arm 
through  whose  sleeve  the  blood  would  spout 
despite  his  efforts.  Louise  Lestron  stared  in 
a  wild  disbelief  from  the  shadowy  disorder 
forward  on  the  schooner  to  the  master. 

When  Sazarac  spoke,  it  appeared  to  be  to 
her:  "There  are  none  left — you  have  seen 
the  last  men  of  a  vanished  race.  You  have 
seen  men  die  in  honesty.  For  you,  Madem 
oiselle — for  a  woman,  at  which  they  would 


294  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

have  laughed;  for  the  peace  of  the  world, 
which  they  would  have  scorned!  It  is  a 
strange  thing  you  see — I  and  old  Dominique 
alone  on  this  bloody  deck — alone  more  than 
any  human  heart  can  know!" 

The  two  gentlemen  took  her  to  the  cabin, 
while  the  crippled  schooner  fled  on  a  blinded 
path,  anywhere  to  be  out  from  the  guns  of  the 
king  o'  Spain.  They  took  her  to  the  emper 
or's  suite;  and  Monsieur  de  Almonaster  found 
bread  and  meat  for  her;  and  Monsieur  Saz- 
arac  held  wine  to  her  lips. 

There,  also,  the  gentlemen  discovered  a 
thing  which  they  did  not  report  to  Madem 
oiselle.  They  closed  the  door  softly  to  the 
cabin,  and  tried  to  make  a  jest  of  all  the  ter 
rors  that  came  with  the  taking  of  the  Sera- 
phine. 

In  the  tapestry-hung  stateroom,  with  his 
boots  on  and  his  blood-stained  head  deep  in 
the  pillow,  the  Emperor  of  the  Bottle  lay  upon 
Bonaparte's  bed  once  more.  He  might  be 
sleeping,  or  he  might  be  dead  .  .  .  the  gen 
tlemen  could  not  take  time  to  discover  with 
so  many  other  grim  questions  mounting  to 
the  eyes  of  each  across  the  emperor's  board. 


THE  BOTTLE  EMPEROR  RETURNS   295 

Be  that  as  it  may,  the  Emperor,  having 
reached  the  privacy  of  his  chamber,  flatly  re 
fused  to  leave  it  again,  even  though  his  lady 
of  the  camellia  was  now  just  outside  the 
paneled  doer. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  LOOT  OF  A  BUCCANEKii 

"THERE  is  much  to  wash  away,  Monsieur," 
commented  De  Almonaster,  at  the  deck  pump. 
He  paused  to  watch  the  sea  water  that  scoured 
along  the  deck  and  into  the  scuppers  leeward. 
"Faithful  old  blood,  Monsieur." 

"The  ship  must  be  put  so  that  Mademoiselle 
may  come  forward,"  answered  Sazarac.  "We 
have  done  all  that  two  sore  men  may  do. 
Clark  is  worn  with  his  sailorman's  shift  aloft. 
The  schooner  is  making  fair  with  this  wind 
following,  but  we  can  hardly  handle  her  with 
anything  else." 

"Beluche  is  dead,"  observed  De  Almon 
aster,  still  in  the  same  detached  manner, 
"Johanness  will  not  live  the  hour  out.  Nom 
de  Dieu!  Think  of  it!  The  way  one  must 
regard  it — nothing  to  be  done  for  them. 
Mademoiselle  is  sitting  with  him  on  the 
weather  side.  He  will  not  be  moved.  He 
296 


THE  LOOT  OF  A  BUCCANEER        297 

swears  he  will  pass  with  the  salt  spray  sting 
ing  over  him." 

"What  more  could  a  man  of  the  sea  ask?" 
answered  Sazarac.  "Come — we  shall  go  to 
him.  No  pity  for  him,  mind — he  would  curse 
you  for  it." 

The  shortened  sail  was  snapping  in  a  clear 
morning  breeze  which  worried  Dominique, 
still  at  his  trick  with  the  wheel,  which  was  all 
that  a  rotund  alderman,  his  knees  too  much 
sagged  with  fat  living,  might  attempt.  A  fair 
morning,  and  a  following  sea;  with  not  a  sail 
in  sight.  Pursuit,  even  from  the  heavy-footed 
Spanish  troop-ship  might  have  gone  badly 
with  the  two-hundred-ton  schooner,  short- 
handed  as  she  scampered  on. 

The  two  gentlemen  who  had  been  gravely 
washing  down  the  decks,  came  about  the  low 
housing  to  where  the  bo'sun  lay.  The  deck 
was  wet,  the  dying  buccaneer  was  wet;  Ma 
demoiselle  Lestron  looked  up,  the  shaggy 
head  with  its  huge  gold  earrings,  pillowed  on 
her  lap;  and  her  face  was  wet  also — a  sparkle 
lent  by  the  sea  and  the  fountains  of  her  wo 
man's  compassion. 

She  turned  from  her  ministrations  with  a 


298  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

wan  smile:  "He  will  not  be  moved,  Mes 
sieurs  !" 

"Old  robber — "  muttered  Sazarac;  "stub 
born  to  the  end,  eh?" 

"It  is  my  place — here  in  the  weather.  I  am 
no  quarter-deck  gentry  nor  mewling  'prentice 
to  be  laid  below  in  the  doctor's  room  for  all  a 
thrust  or  two." 

"Johanness,  you  are  going  soon,"  answered 
the  chief  gravely. 

"That  is  what  I  wanted  of  you.  Send  away 
the  English  woman — "  and  though  he  growled 
this,  when  she  had  arisen  he  looked  about  at 
her  from  under  his  gray  bushy  brows  and 
smiled.  "I  want  to  lie  wi'  you  a  moment,  and 
look  at  the  flying  tops.  You  will  need  to 
shorten  sail,  and  I  rage  that  I  can  not  spring 
to  the  tops  again.  Name  o'  God! — a  seaman 
on  his  back  and  loose  blocks  clattering!  .  .  . 
Is  the  English  woman  gone?" 

"She  is  well  away  with  Monsieur  de  Almon- 
aster." 

"Good!  Now,  you  are  Lafitte,  and  not  this 
woman's  Sazarac.  It  is  this,  Jean.  In  my 
shrimper's  camp  back  at  La  Caminada  there 
is  a  packet  in  my  sea  chest.  It  tells  of  plunder 


THE  LOOT  OF  A  BUCCANEER        299 

that  Crump  and  De  Jonville  and  I  buried  on 
Cozumel  twenty  years  ago.  Some  gold,  some 
silver  and  a  handful  of  jewels.  The  two 
others  have  been  dead  long  since;  and  I  wish 
the  stuff  for  you—" 

"I  can  never  return  to  Louisiana,  Johan- 
ness,"  said  the  leader  gently. 

"Eh?  Well,  that  is  so!"  The  old  man's 
voice  was  breaking  lower.  He  turned  his  face 
to  watch  the  white  spume  arise  along  the 
weather  rail,  the  highest  glitter  of  it  striking 
his  face.  "Well,  let  me  be,  my  Captain!  I 
wish  to  lie  alone  staring  at  the  dizzy  tops. 
Naught  but  them  against  the  blue  and  the  sea 
weathering  up  at  me.  Now — let  be,  Jean !" 

The  master  put  his  hand  back  on  his  breast 
and  walked  aft.  The  weary  group  by  the 
steersman  looked  questioningly  up. 

"Let  no  one  go  near  him.  It  is  his  wish.  I 
shall  roll  him  from  the  chains.  That,  too,  is 
his  wish.  I — alone!" 

And  again  the  girl  looked  wonderingly  at 
him.  "What  are  you  to  them  all,  Monsieur? 
That  rough  men  turn  to  you  in  this  fashion, 
as  I  have  seen  them  die — the  priest,  the 
brother  and  the  comrade?" 


300  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

"A  name,"  he  said,  and  smiled;  and  then 
would  say  no  more. 

Louise  had  bound  up  De  Almonaster's 
sorely-wounded  arm.  Now  they  all  lay  in  the 
shelter  of  the  after-housing,  save  the  lad, 
Clark,  who  had  taken  the  wheel.  Old  Dom 
inique,  Monsieur  Sazarac  and  Count  de  Al- 
monaster  with  the  English  woman. 

The  creak  and  haul  of  the  gear  in  the  fresh 
ening  wind  was  all  the  sound,  and  Dominique 
croaked  his  misgivings. 

"A  sore  wild  night  for  us  all,  hearties,  if  it 
keeps  on.  And  another  mystery  there  may  be 
for  the  coffee-houses,  and  that  is  the  end  of 
the  Seraphine  and  the  yelling  bullies  who 
stole  her  from  the  Place  d'Armes !  I  trust  the 
Mayor  Rouiffignac  will  put  flowers  on  my 
desk  in  the  council  chamber." 

They  tried  to  smile  for  the  sake  of  Madem 
oiselle.  Now  and  then,  with  a  curious  little 
frowning  fear,  she  had  glanced  down  the 
raised  skylight  to  the  cabin  of  the  emperor. 
It  was,  indeed,  as  if  she  was  watching  there 
for  an  apparition.  At  times  she  would  have 
asked  of  the  'ragged  man  she  saw  there  in  the 
chair  of  honor  with  the  scalp  wound  that  had 


THE  LOOT  OF  A  BUCCANEER        301 

given  him  something  the  appearance  of  one 
who  wore  a  red  coronet  and  jauntily;  but 
always  the  two  gentlemen  had  courteously 
evaded  her. 

The  two  gentlemen  had  conferred  apart, 
now  and  then;  reservedly,  perhaps,  but  with 
common  honesty. 

"You  would  make  the  Mississippi  passes 
with  this  ship,  Monsieur?"  inquired  De  Al- 
monaster.  "It  appears  quite  impossible  that 
we  should!" 

"It  is  quite  possible  to  try,  Monsieur  de  Al- 
monaster." 

"There  is  Amelia  Island,"  mused  Monsieur 
de  Almonaster.  "It  is  still  a  haunt  for  the 
privateers,  but  since  the  United  States  are  bar 
gaining  for  the  Floridas,  I  doubt  if  it  would  be 
healthy  for  us  over-long?" 

"What  is  in  your  mind,  Monsieur?"  retorted 
Sazarac  dryly. 

"Your  life  again.  Granting  this  short- 
handed  vessel  can  be  brought  to  the  Missis 
sippi,  there  is  an  answer  we  must  make  for 
this  affair." 

"There  is  the  answer  I  made  to  Madem 
oiselle  Lestron." 


302  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

"True — true !"  The  younger  man  shrugged. 
"There  is,  in  addition,  my  honor  that  the  Sera- 
phine  yet  sail  on  the  mission  for  the  emperor. 
There  are  gentlemen  in  New  Orleans  with 
money  in  this  venture.  If  a  crew  could  be 
shipped  by  any  means — " 

Monsieur  Sazarac  laughed  aloud.  At  the 
end  it  amused  him — this  punctilious  regard 
each  had  for  honor — his  own  and  the  other 
man's,  and  each  for  the  other's  life  and  fu 
ture.  That  was  what  Mademoiselle  Lestron 
had  put  upon  them,  this  meticulous  notion 
to  stand  aside  rather  than  overreach. 

"Come,"  he  said  good-humoredly.  "Is  there 
a  quarrel  in  us,  Monsieur?" 

"In  the  end  she  will  know  you  are  Jean  La- 
fitte,"  went  on  De  Almonaster  evenly.  "But 
it  is  not  I  who  should  tell  her.  Is  not  that 
fair?" 

"I  will  bow  to  her  from  the  gallows  the 
governor  will  erect  in  the  Place  d'Armes,  and 
announce  myself,  if  needs  be,"  said  Monsieur 
Sazarac. 

"Jean!"  the  younger  man  sprang  up  hotly. 
"This  is  no  jesting!  She  loves  you!" 

"A  ghost — Sazarac,"  smiled  the  other.    "Ah, 


THE  LOOT  OF  A  BUCCANEER        303 

indeed,  this  is  worthy  of  the  man  who  lies 
below  in  the  suite  of  Napoleon,  babbling  a 
glory  which  is  compounded  of  fever  and 
cognac!  What  is  there  to  love  in  Sazarac, 
once  the  mask  is  torn  from  him?" 

"That  is  the  point  of  it,"  retorted  the  other 
soberly.  "One  can  love  a  mask  ...  a  wo 
man  can  go  on  forever  loving  the  illusion  she 
deems  a  man  to  be!" 

"The  irons  she  will  see  upon  Monsieur  La- 
fitte  in  New  Orleans  will  not  be  an  illusion." 
The  master  smiled  again  detachedly:  "This 
romantic  fancy  of  hers  for  Sazarac!  Go  be 
low — ask  Monsieur  Jarvis  who  has  suffered 
for  her,  bled  for  her,  saved  her  life — and  re 
fuses  to  be  anything  but  the  veriest  mystery 
and  illusion  to  her!  He  refuses  to  be  any 
thing  more.  .  .  .  My  friend,  Jarvis,  is  very 
wise.  Monsieur  Sazarac  can  go  no  further 
than  the  gallows  in  the  Place  d'Armes,  and 
there  smile  down  at  her  regretting  he  is  not 
himself." 

"Ah,  well!"  the  young  man  started  up  bit 
terly.  "I  can  make  nothing  of  it!  I  love 
her,  Monsieur  Lafitte — and  she  loves  the 
magic  of  Sazarac!" 


304  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

He  arose  and  paced  the  wet  deck,  wincing  as 
the  swordthrust  through  his  left  arm  cut  him 
under  the  dressing  her  hands  had  made  for 
it.  She  saw  him  from  her  cushioned  perch 
by  the  steersman.  Dominique  had  taken  the 
trick  again,  and  sent  the  lad,  Clark,  to  the 
lookout.  A  fine  hot  youth  Raoul  de  Almon- 
aster  had  come  to  be  under  the  press  of  the 
eventful  fortnight  since  the  Seraphine  fled 
from  the  river's  mouth;  the  languid  aristocrat 
of  the  sugar  plantations  had  flung  against  the 
steel  of  Monsieur  Sazarac  and  tempered  to  a 
man. 

She  would  have  called  him  and  tried  to  win 
him  from  his  moods,  but  she  feared  the  flame 
of  him  .  .  .  she  could  hardly  fail  to  guess  why 
his  sword  had  leaped  from  its  sheath  on 
Campeche  reef;  and  surely  the  Seraphine  had 
seen  enough  of  men's  passions  and  their 
blood. 

And  Monsieur  Sazarac,  too,  had  his  moods 
again.  He  found  affairs  to  keep  him  busied, 
as,  indeed,  well  a  sailor  might  on  this  man- 
crippled  schooner;  but  once,  happening  to 
glance  down  the  cabin  skylight,  with  her  in 
cessant  curiosity,  she  saw  him  there.  He 


THE  LOOT  OF  A  BUCCANEER        305 

stood  in  deep  thought,  it  appeared.  Then  he 
went  to  the  door  of  the  emperor's  stateroom, 
and  rapped  upon  it  with  his  silver  sword  hilt. 
She  thought  he  laughed  slightly,  as  a  man 
who  had  thought  upon  a  serious  matter  until 
it  became  amusing. 

The  door  opened.  She  could  not  tell  by 
whom,  but  Monsieur  Sazarac  bowed  with  an 
accentuated  flourish.  There  was  a  sardonic 
smoothness  to  this  bow;  and  Sazarac  entered 
the  emperor's  chamber.  The  door  closed,  and 
for  an  hour  nothing  happened  in  the  cabin. 
It  irritated  Mademoiselle  Lestron.  A  mys 
tery  with  grim  laughter  in  it  ...  about  all 
the  blood  and  death  and  fire  of  the  weeks 
there  had  seemed  grimacing  mirth. 

Wise  nods  and  chuckles — rough  jesting, 
truculent  whisperings  aside;  grumbling 
humor  at  the  name  of  him :  the  mutineers  had 
had  the  jest;  the  silent,  loyal  men  had  it — the 
complacent  alderman,  Monsieur  de  Almon- 
aster — Sazarac  himself  .  .  .  every  one  a 
jester,  like  the  mysterious  figure,  the  man 
who  was  always  slipping  from  her  to  the 
shadows. 

Even   the   dying,   wounded   fellows,   over- 


306  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

whelmed  by  the  boarding  Spaniards  on  the 
port  bow  last  night;  that,  too,  was  a  jest,  for 
if  the  king's  men  had  made  one  more  assault 
the  Seraphine  would  have  been  theirs  again. 
The  swords  of  Monsieur  de  Almonaster  and 
Monsieur  Sazarac  were  the  only  ones  against 
them  when  they  broke  back  to  their  boats. 
The  last  dead  of  the  Seraphine  lay  in  a  close 
row  before  the  fo'cas'le  hood — Beluche,  the 
admiral;  Nez  Coupe,  the  riven-faced;  Bohon, 
the  smuggler;  Joe  Rigo  of  Isle  Grande; 
Freniere  and  two  others;  a  fallen  rank  to 
which,  presently,  she  saw  Monsieur  Sazarac 
carry  the  last— the  bo'sun,  Johanness. 

Then  the  master  stood  bareheaded  in  the 
sun  and  looked  them  over.  He  seemed  satis 
fied;  he  took  a  deck-broom  and  swept  around 
them  carefully,  as  if  these  were  a  treasure 
heaped  on  the  schooner's  spray-lashed  bow; 
and  then  he  came  aft  Mademoiselle  Lestron 
saw  that  he  carried  a  number  of  shabby 
things.  A  drenched  velvet  cap,  a  broken  pis 
tol,  a  faded  sash,  a  cutlass  and  a  gold  ear 
ring  from  the  bo'sun's  head.  With  these  he 
went  down  the  main  companionway  to  the 
emperor's  cabin,  knocked  on  the  door  and 
then  entered.  The  door  closed. 


THE  LOOT  OF  A  BUCCANEER        307 

She  glanced  at  Alderman  Dominique 
drowsing  at  the  wheel.  The  flapping  canvas, 
as  the  schooner  wore  off  a  bit,  brought  his 
eyes  open. 

"Monsieur  Dominique !  What  is  going  on  ?" 
she  cried. 

"Eh?  On?— I  trust  my  head  is  still  on— 
and  remains  so?  What — " 

"What  is  this  play  for  me?"  she  broke  in 
passionately. 

Monsieur  Dominique  was  looking  about  va 
cantly  when  there  came  a  hail  from  the  for 
ward  lookout,  Clark,  who  had  spent  the  hour 
aloft. 

"Sail— Ho !    On  the  weather  bow !" 

Old  Dominique  lurched  up  stiffly.  De  Al- 
monaster  came  from  his  furious  pacing  amid 
ships.  Monsieur  Sazarac,  presently,  from  the 
cabin.  The  gentlemen  gathered  about  the 
master's  sea-glass.  After  a  while  he  picked 
it  up  clearly. 

"A  Yankee — and  a  sloop-of-war,  I  think. 
She  is  laying  a  course  to  cross  us."  Sazarac 
looked  about  with  some  concern. 

"American!"  cried  Raoul  eagerly.  "Then 
break  out  the  jack,  and  run  up  the  national 
colors  also !  This  is  an  American  ship !" 


308  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

Sazarac  glanced  at  him  oddly.  It  appeared 
some  sentiment  was  struggling  with  expe 
diency.  But  when  Clark  came  down  he  was 
sent  to  hoist  the  starred  flag  of  the  Washing 
ton  Republic. 

"This  is  a  hard  nut  to  crack,"  grumbled 
Dominique.  "The  story  this  schooner  holds. 
Not  a  document  aboard  .  .  .  and  you — Jean !" 

Mademoiselle  Lestron  had  turned  a  glad 
tired  face  to  the  stranger's  sail;  she  did  not 
hear  a  sudden  conference. 

"It  will  not  do  for  them  to  see  him,"  mut 
tered  Monsieur  Sazarac.  "Nor  Mademoiselle 
Lestron  to  see  him.  He  is  roaring  his  chan 
teys — he  is  telling  of  his  sea  fight — -he  names 
us  all  of  the  old  crew,  one  by  one." 

"There  goes  a  signal  gun."  Raoul  was 
watching  the  strange  sail,  and  the  slender 
figure  of  Louise  Lestron  waving  an  arm  as 
though  the  Yankees  might  see.  "They  mean 
for  us  to  lay  to.  Now,  we  will  have  to  ex 
plain." 

Mademoiselle  had  run  back  to  them,  her 
eyes  sparkling  joyously.  She  heard  the  young 
man's  last  word,  and  her  keen  eyes  noted  the 
constrained  silence  that  had  fallen  on  them. 


THE  LOOT  OF  A  BUCCANEER        309 

"Your  fellow-countrymen,  Messieurs  of 
Louisiana!  A  rescue  .  .  .  what  is  the  mat 
ter?  What  is  there  to  explain?  This  ship,  a 
victim  of  mutineers?" 

She  glanced  from  them  to  the  sloop-of-war 
sailing  swiftly,  wind  a-beam,  to  cross  the 
bows  of  the  Seraphim.  Already,  at  her  mast 
head,  they  could  see  the  flag  of  the  North 
Republic. 

"The  Napoleon  plot,"  the  English  woman 
guessed.  "Well  that — a  ship  of  His  Majesty 
might  seize  you  all,  but  I  have  not  heard  that 
the  Yankees  have  ever  interfered  seriously  in 
this  madness  of  New  Orleans  to  free  Na 
poleon?" 

"The  emperor,"  said  Monsieur  Sazarac 
darkly,  but  with  his  smile,  "is  in  his  bed — 
with  his  boots  on !" 

The  Seraphine  was  coming  around  and  up 
in  the  wind  with  a  clatter  of  blocks  and  snap 
ping  cloth.  Dominique  sighed  wearily.  There 
was  nothing  else  to  do.  Monsieur  Sazarac, 
after  that  last  enigmatic  jest,  looked  gravely 
at  the  other  vessel. 

"The  Hornet — "  he  shrugged:  "Commodore 
Biddle's  famous  sloop  of  the  British  war. 


310  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

Lay-to,  hearties!  You  are  boarding  a  mate 
worthy  of  a  chase  if  we  had  other  than  dead 
sailormen  forward  of  the  mast!" 

Dominique  watched  him  sorrowfully.  For 
them  all,  save  Jean  Lafitte,  there  might  be 
explanation,  pardon ;  perhaps,  even  praise  for 
a  gallant  exploit. 

"She  is  up  in  the  wind  also,"  muttered  De 
Almonaster.  "I  see  a  boat  swinging  off,  and 
a  smart  lieutenant's  head-gear.  Now,  Mon 
sieur  Sazarac — " 

"It  depends  upon  who  may  be  in  the  Yankee 
boarding  party,"  said  the  other  indifferently. 
"There  may  be  old  heads  there  who  know 
me  well." 

Monsieur  Sazarac's  short  laugh  stung  the 
hothead  again.  He  crossed  to  him  at  the  rail. 
"Monsieur  Sazarac,  it  is  idle  to  say  I  will  not 
betray  you.  There  is  no  one  here  who  can 
or  will,  except  .  .  .  what  is  John  Jarvis  say 
ing  now?" 

"He  instructed,  just  now:  'Jean  Lafitte, 
fetch  the  sea  boots  of  Monsieur  Sazarac.' ' 

"Perdition!"  fumed  De  Almonaster.  "He 
will  hang  you  yet!  He  will  hang  you  yet — 
even  at  the  last!" 


THE  LOOT  OF  A  BUCCANEER        311 

"A  word  from  him — from  any  one — natur 
ally — "  Monsieur  Sazarac  took  his  snuff  com 
posedly.  "Eh,  bien!  He  was  my  jester  in  the 
old  days!  This  entire  affair  seized  his  fancy. 
It  was  he,  it  seems,  for  he  boasts  of  it — who 
caught  a  camellia  which  was  once  thrown  to 
me  from  a  balcony.  Things  might  have  been 
far  different  if  I  had  done  so,  and  not  he. 
Well,  what  would  one  have?  Life  depends 
on  the  slightest  things.  And  death  as  well; 
you  see, — if  the  Emperor  of  the  Bottle  had 
not  caught  the  camellia  he  might  never  have 
been  inspired  to  outswagger  Monsieur  Saz 
arac!" 

"Her  ragged  cavalier — "  muttered  the 
other :  "be  still.  She  must  not  know.  It  wrould 
be  abominable — he,  with  his  cognac,  roaring 
the  doggerel  of  your  old  black  ship!  Name 
of  Names!  The  American  boat  is  under  our 
counter.  See  to  the  boarding,  Clark!" 

A  hail  had  come  from  the  small  boat  as 
she  sheered  off  to  await  the  ladder.  Then 
presently,  after  some  difficulty,  a  young 
American  lieutenant  climbed  over  the  rail. 
He  stared  bewilderedly  down  the  empty  waist 
of  the  schooner  first,  and  then  to  the  little 


312  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

group  by  the  wheel  where  Monsieur  Dom 
inique  idly  hung. 

"Sir,  my  compliments,  and  those  of  Captain 
Dallas  of  the  American  sloop,  Hornet — but 
we  have  orders  to  stop  all  sailing  craft  in  the 
gulf  and  make  inquiry.  Besides  we  saw  you 
were  sailing  with  some  trouble — very  short- 
manned  and  hard-used,  it  might  be.  You  are 
—sir?" 

"Captain  Caspar  Sazarac,  sir — acting  mas 
ter."  He  bowed  and  stepped  nearer  with  an 
assuring  smile.  "The  Seraphine  is  largely  the 
property  of  this  gentleman,  Monsieur  de  Al- 
monaster  of  New  Orleans.  The  lady,  sir,  is  a 
British  subject,  whom  we  took  under  stress. 
The  victims  of  a  mutiny,  sir — as  you  will  see 
if  you  look  about.  I  will  make  you  a  full 
report  of  the  affair  in  writing,  if  you  wish, 
sir." 

The  American  lieutenant  was,  indeed,  look 
ing  about  with  some  curiosity.  He  saw  bullet- 
riven  woodwork  and  torn  sail  cloth  .  .  .  per 
haps  even  rimming  crusts  of  red  along  the 
scuppers.  Then  he  smiled.  Dominique  gave 
a  soft  whistle  of  relief.  The  Hornet,  then, 
had  not  sailed  from  New  Orleans.  The  offi- 


THE  LOOT  OF  A  BUCCANEER        313 

cers  did  not  yet  know  of  the  affair  at  the 
Place  d'Armes! 

Lieutenant  Ramsey's  smile  deepened  upon 
the  gentlemen: 

"I  can  guess,  sir!  Monsieur  de  Almonaster 
is  known  in  Baltimore  and  Charleston.  And 
this  schooner — the  Seraphine,  the  famous 
ship  that  was  to  take  Napoleon!" 

A  stir  and  a  shout  had  come  from  the  Yan 
kee  seamen  over  the  rail. 

"The  Girod  ship!  I  saw  her  at  Charleston 
ere  she  was  purchased!" 

"Aye — the  ship  bought  by  the  gentlemen  of 
New  Orleans!  There  is  no  faster  in  the 
Indies!" 

The  lieutenant  still  smiled  doubtfully: 
"Monsieur  de  Almonaster,  I  can  assure  you 
you  do  not  appear  very  dangerous!" 

"We  speak  the  truth,  sir!"  Raoul  advanced 
eagerly,  catching  at  the  knowledge  that  the 
Americans  knew  nothing  of  the  stealing  of 
the  Seraphine.  "Our  mission  ended  in 
mutiny — disaster,  as  you  see  about  us.  Will 
you  detain  us,  sir?  Has  Washington  ordered 
any  action  against  our  purpose?" 

The  officer  bowed  .  .  .  even  he,  as  Madem- 


314  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

oiselle  Lestron  noticed,  appeared  to  be  in 
wardly  amused: 

"But  last  week,  Monsieur  de  Almonaster, 
it  might  have  done  so  on  certain  representa 
tions  of  the  king's  ambassador.  But  now, 
both  England  and  America  are  relieved  of 
this  momentous  issue.  For  when  we  left 
Charleston  a  clipper  had  just  arrived  from 
Liverpool  with  despatches.  Gentlemen  of  the 
Seraphine,  your  fantastic  dream  is  over.  The 
Emperor  Bonaparte  is  dead." 

Monsieur  de  Almonaster  gazed  dumbly  at 
him  for  a  moment.  It  appeared,  indeed,  as  if 
the  young  gentleman  of  Louisiana  had  sus 
tained  a  blow.  Mademoiselle  Lestron,  Tory 
and  monarchist,  disdainful  of  all  the  Corsi- 
can's  lost  glory,  though  she  was — gasped  a 
trifle  incredulously. 

Monsieur  Sazarac  shrugged  as  if  it  was  a 
matter  of  no  moment  to  a  sailing  master  for 
the  New  Orleans  gentry.  Dominique,  alone, 
gave  way  to  emotion.  He  blew  his  red  nose 
loudly. 

"Eh — old  Bony !  Name  o'  God ! — now  I  will 
have  to  go  back  to  mulling  over  street  con 
tracts  with  the  Mayor  Rouiffignac!" 


THE  LOOT  OF  A  BUCCANEER        315 

"You  are  therefore  absolved  from  all  duty 
in  the  affair,"  continued  Lieutenant  Ramsey 
with  some  irony.  "It  is  very  apparent  that  a 
vessel  crippled  as  is  the  Seraphine  by  a 
mutiny  which,  luckily,  you  had  the  gallant 
fortune  to  put  down,  is  in  no  way  fit  for  a 
lady.  Captain  Dallas  will  be  pleased  to  re 
ceive  her,  and  any  of  the  rest  who  wish  trans 
fer,  and  take  you  to  New  Orleans  on  the 
Hornet.  Monsieur  de  Almonaster  has  a 
wound  which  needs  a  surgeon.  Can  we  serve 
you,  gentlemen,  in  this?" 

"Naturally  you  will  require  a  report  in  writ 
ing,"  suggested  Monsieur  Sazarac. 

"At  your  leisure,  Monsieur."  The  lieuten 
ant  turned  away  as  if  to  give  the  refugees  a 
moment  to  confer  upon  the  matter. 

Dominique  found  chance  to  pull  the  sleeve 
of  Monsieur  Sazarac.  "You  can  not  go  to  the 
Hornet,  Jean!  There  will  be  older  seamen 
there  who  will  recognize  you.  Your  head  is 
not  worth  Beluche's  gimcrack  cockade.  Nor 
in  New  Orleans  either!" 

"Mademoiselle  Lestron  will  accept  Captain 
Dallas'  courtesy  on  the  Hornet"  observed 
Monsieur  Sazarac,  as  if  he  had  not  heard. 


316  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

She  turned  joyously  to  him.  "Why,  natur 
ally!  And  leave  this  ship  of  blood  and  mys 
tery!  We  shall  go,  Messieurs! — it  is  in  my 
heart  to  go !" 

"You  hear?"  murmured  Sazarac  to  De  Al- 
monaster.  The  count  had  taken  a  turn  of  the 
deck  forward  with  Lieutenant  Ramsey,  show 
ing  him  certain  things  and  explaining  earn 
estly.  Now  he  was  back  to  his  party. 

"I  say  this  is  luck!  The  Hornet  is  over 
crowded  with  some  twenty  sailormen  taken 
from  a  wrecked  island  trader  off  Key  West 
on  her  run  down!  Jamaicans — some  white 
and  some  half-breed,  but  able  seamen,  Lieu 
tenant  Ramsey  tells.  Captain  Dallas  will  be 
more  than  glad  to  shift  this  burden,  and  at 
the  same  time  provide  the  working  crew 
which  our  schooner  must  needs  have  in  any 
event!  It  is  admirable.  We  can  stay  on 
her." 

But  the  girl  shivered  .  .  .  she  had  been 
peering  curiously  down  through  the  skylight 
where  the  snowy  top  of  the  Seraphine  against 
the  blue  cast  wavering  colors  on  the  ornate 
furnishings  of  the  emperor's  cabin. 

"No — no — Monsieur!    On  the  Hornet — " 


THE  LOOT  OF  A  BUCCANEER        317 

"On  the  Hornet'9  repeated  Captain  Sazarac 
quietly. 

Raoul  stopped  with  a  remembrance  of 
Sazarac  shadowing  his  exuberance.  "Ah, 
yes!  I  see,"  he  went  on  slowly.  "Nom  de 
Dieu!  It  would  be  the  same  for  you — the 
Seraphine  following  in  the  wake  of  the  Hornet 
to  New  Orleans!  Monsieur  Sazarac —  Ah, 
well!"  He  shrugged  helplessly:  "I  can  not 
think  what  to  do  for  Monsieur  Sazarac !" 

The  girl  could  not  understand,  of  course. 
Monsieur  Sazarac  bowed  with  some  satire. 

"This  phantom — Sazarac!  How  it  haunts 
your  happiness,  Monsieur  de  Almonaster! 
Dispel  it  with  a  word !  A  gesture !" 

The  younger  man  came  to  him  with  a  ges 
ture,  indeed,  but  of  some  humble  grief.  "I 
have  stood  aside.  I  have  spoken  no  word  of 
love  to  her  ...  I  have  held  my  honor.  The 
look  in  her  eyes  I  have  seen — that  is  for  you 
to-day,  if  I  can  not  win  it  fairly !" 

"There,"  murmured  Sazarac.  "See?  She  is 
looking  into  the  cabin — curiously !  Eh,  a  wo 
man!  Fascinated  by  mystery — this  or  that 
ghost.  Come,  be  the  man,  Raoul!  Call  the 
lieutenant's  guard  ...  I  am  Jean  Lafitte !" 


318  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

"This  sword  of  mine  would  be  at  the  throat 
of  any  man  who  breathed  that  name  upon 
this  ship.  That  is  my  honor  still — Sazarac." 

"Come!  Name  of  the  devil!  The  lieuten 
ant  is  fidgeting — he  must  be  back  to  report 
this  matter.  Why,  what  is  the  matter  with 
you?"  growled  Sazarac  impatiently.  "Take 
what  is  in  your  grasp !  The  happiness  that  is 
in  your  power — seize  it,  Monsieur!  Honor? — 
bah!  Go  down  in  the  emperor's  stateroom 
.  .  .  ask  the  jester!  He  would  roar  the  truth 
of  us  all  to  Heaven!  It  appears  that  he  has 
protected  the  good  name  of  Sazarac  long 
enough,  and  has  tired  of  it.  He  has,  in  fact, 
now  called  on  me  to  be  an  honest  man.  It 
must  be  Lafitte,  the  outlaw,  who  has  the 
lady's  fancy — not  a  chivalrous  Sazarac.  And 
the  jester  rules,  Monsieur — he  has  come  to 
command  at  last!" 

Monsieur  De  Almonaster  appeared  not  to 
understand  the  other's  laughter  which  must 
conceal  so  much  of  pain.  "Jarvis  must  not 
see  her  then,"  he  muttered.  "There  would 
be  no  sense  to  that!" 

Sazarac  took  the  young  man's  unwounded 
arm  and  turned  him  firmly  toward  the  Hor- 


THE  LOOT  OF  A  BUCCANEER        319 

net  lying  up  in  the  wind  astern.  "Come — I, 
too,  am  a  ghost.  Sazarac  is  a  ghost — he  nev 
er  did  exist."  And  then  the  old  somber  look 
of  Lafitte,  the  fugitive,  came  to  his  eyes:  "I 
tell  you,  Raoul,  if  we  had  not  just  learned 
that  Bonaparte  was  dead,  I  would  have  tried 
— for  a  last  desperate  venture  of  the  last  man 
of  my  infamous  lot — to  seize  Napoleon.  To 
be  at  sea!  To  be  under  the  sky  again  on  a 
good  ship !  At  the  end — too  late — your  dream 
grappled  me!  Monsieur,  you  see  everything 
else  is  gone  for  me,"  he  added.  "I  depart 
from  the  stage.  Jarvis  would  tell  you  so  with 
his  mocking.  Ah,  God,  I  envy  the  dead  men 
up  there  forward!" 

"You  love  her,  then,"  muttered  De  Almon- 
aster,  "that  is  plain — " 

"Too  well  to  have  her  see  me  swing  in  air 
at  the  end.  Of  course  that  will  be  the  end — " 
he  said  composedly:  "and  she  will  know  I 
played  a  role  for  her  merely.  I  could  not  be 
Sazarac  more  than  could  John  Jarvis." 

"You  give  her  up  because  there  is  no  more 
to  do — for  Sazarac,"  returned  the  other 
slowly.  "Ah,  yes!  I  am  sorry,  Monsieur!  I 
am  unfair  after  all,  at  the  end." 


320  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

And  then  he  suddenly  seized  the  adven 
turer's  bronzed  hands.  "See,  here!  Your 
life?  The  Seraphine  will  save  your  life!  I 
give  her  to  you,  Monsieur!  The  crew  of  ship 
wrecked  mariners — why,  in  some  obscure 
port  of  the  Indies  you  can  refit  and  be  off 
before  you  are  identified !" 

The  older  man  put  back  the  iron-gray  wisp 
that  had  come  to  his  black  hair  above  the 
temples.  "Be  off — Monsieur?" 

"I  heard  you  say  the  seas  are  wide,  and  far 
— far  the  way  to  their  secret  places.  It  is  a 
chance,  Jean."  The  count  seized  his  arm,  for 
the  lieutenant,  whom  Mademoiselle  Lestron 
had  now  joined,  was  returning  to  them. 
"Come!  I  reimburse  the  gentlemen  of  New 
Orleans  who  were  with  me  in  the  Girod  ven 
ture.  I  give  you  the  Seraphine — without  con 
dition." 

"Without  condition?"  Monsieur  Sazarac 
stared  oddly  at  him.  Then  at  Mademoiselle 
Lestron  who  had  run  to  them  brightly,  viva 
ciously,  as  if  all  was  arranged,  as  if  the  black- 
hulled  schooner  and  its  mysteries  would,  in 
an  hour,  be  vanished  in  the  seas  .  .  .  and  she 
gladdened  at  its  passing. 


THE  LOOT  OF  A  BUCCANEER        321 

"Ah,  yes!"  Sazarac  bowed:  "without  con 
dition,  Monsieur  de  Almonaster !" 

And  he  bowed  again  to  her,  and  took  her 
finger-tips  and  pressed  them  to  his  lips.  She 
could  not  understand  this  fervor  which  had 
a  touch  of  satire.  Nor  the  smile  in  his  somber 
eyes;  his  turning  away  while  Monsieur  de 
Almonaster  made  hurried  arrangements  with 
the  American  lieutenant.  Even  now  they  had 
sent  the  boat  away  to  apprise  the  Hornet,  and 
to  fetch  the  improvised  crew  which  would  be 
glad  for  a  berth  back  to  the  Indies. 

Monsieur  Sazarac  stood  idly  apart,  twirling 
his  sword  knot,  as  if  nothing  any  longer  was 
affair  of  his.  When  Alderman  Dominique 
made  some  query  as  to  the  dead  seamen  for 
ward  he  shrugged.  That  was  all. 

He  strolled  forward  to  stare  down  at  the 
nine  dead  buccaneers,  and  did  not  return 
until  the  Hornet's  boats  with  a  crew  of  strange 
half-breed  men,  and  two  obsequious,  grate 
ful,  petty  officers,  were  at  the  Seraphim's 
side. 

While  the  other  party  was  descending  to 
the  small  boat  he  still  stood  apart.  Domin 
ique  supposed  he  was  going,  dumb  hurt  as  the 


322  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

alderman  was  at  thought  of  the  chance  that 
an  instant  cry,  "Lafitte!"  would  ring  on  the 
Hornet's  quarter-deck. 

Mademoiselle  Lestron  thought  he  was  going, 
for  he  stood  close  by  the  ladder  as  she  was 
helped  away. 

But  he  detained  her  suddenly  at  the  rail. 

"A  moment,  Mademoiselle — "  He  exhibit 
ed  to  her  a  small  bracelet  Curiously  inlaid, 
gold  of  three  colors,  and  a  number  of  pearls 
.  .  .  the  gift  of  a  queen. 

Mademoiselle  Lestron  cried  out  in  joyous 
wonder.  She  had  never  seen  Marie  Antoin 
ette's  bracelet  since  the  night  she  saw  the 
ragged  fellow  kiss  it  in  the  emperor's  cabin, 
when  the  mutineers  sent  her  away. 

"My  bracelet!  Monsieur — "  All  a  child's 
lovely  eagerness  to  grasp  a  toy  was  in  her 
face  and  the  hand  she  reached  for  it. 

Monsieur  Sazarac,  however,  drew  it  back 
gravely :  "Ah — no !" 

"But — my  bracelet,  Monsieur?    I  want  it!" 

"That  is  the  point.  It  is  yours,  and  you  can 
not  have  it." 

"Nom  de  Dieu!"  She  stared  at  him  in 
credulously.  "Why?" 


THE  LOOT  OF  A  BUCCANEER        323 

"It  must  be  stolen.  It  is  essential  as  a  mat 
ter  of  honor." 

De  Almonaster  and  Dominique  were  in  the 
small  boat.  They  looked  up  astonished;  and 
the  girl  sat  down  by  them  trying  to  keep  back 
hot  puzzled  tears. 

There  was  an  adieu  or  so  waved  from  the 
Hornet's  officers  in  the  small  boats  as  they 
sheered  off  the  schooner's  side.  Monsieur 
Sazarac  bowed.  Bowed  to  them  all  with  ap 
parently  the  same  debonair  dismissal. 

Mademoiselle  Lestron  turned  to  De  Almon 
aster  with  a  wild  whisper:  "He  is  not  com 
ing!  He  is  not  coming  with  us!" 

For  no  sooner  had  Mademoiselle  Lestron 
left  the  Seraphine  that  day  in  1821,  than 
Monsieur  Sazarac  turned  and  ran  down  in 
the  emperor's  cabin.  He  burst  into  the  door 
way  of  the  emperor's  stateroom  and  flung 
the  golden  trinket  upon  the  lace  and  silken 
coverlet  of  the  emperor's  bed. 

"There — robber!"  he  shouted,  somewhat 
impatiently.  "Her  bracelet — stolen — taken 
against  her  will!  Are  you  satisfied?" 

The  man  on  the  bed  looked  at  it  quietly 
with  glittering  eyes  above  his  hollow  cheeks. 


324  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

He  still  had  his  boots  on,  and  the  imperial 
couch  was  rather  the  worse  for  the  mud  and 
dried  blood  upon  it.  But  now  he  sat  up 
straighter  and  gestured  with  superb  authority. 

"Well,  then!  You  lost  her — you  will  never 
see  her  again!" 

"I  lost  her.  And  neither  you  nor  I  will  ever 
see  her  again!"  He  looked  at  the  painter  of 
the  rue  Royale  more  composedly:  "Eh,  Jar- 
vis?  What  should  you  and  I  ask  of  life? 
Youth  turns  to  youth  always — and  a  fine  fel 
low,  this  De  Almonaster.  You  and  I  will 
never  see  her  again." 

"The  devil  take  me  if  I  ever  saw  her  at  all, 
very  clearly.  Whether  her  eyes  are  brown, 
or  merely  very  dark  blue — and  her  hair.  .  .  . 
Eh,  well!  She  never  saw  me  very  clearly 
either.  Which  is  most  fortunate.  She  will 
remember  longest  the  one  who  was  the  great 
est  mystery.  Sir — another  peg  o'  brandy." 

"Here — scum  o'  the  seas!  Your  drink — - 
plunderer  o'  the  ports!" 

"Monsieur  Lafitte" — the  jester  crushed 
back  against  the  emperor's  pillows  and 
touched  a  handkerchief  of  elegant  linen  to  his 
lips  delicately — "you  say  I  shall  die  before 
morning?" 


THE  LOOT  OF  A  BUCCANEER        325 

"It  is  certain  as  anything  I  know,  Jarvis." 

"Jarvis?"  The  jester  grew  quite  solemn: 
"Wait  a  moment,  Monsieur  Lafitte."  He 
straightened  his  body  a  bit :  "Now — bring  me 
the  cutlass  of  old  Gorgio!" 

"I  brought  it — here,"  answered  Monsieur 
Lafitte  obediently. 

"The  pistol  of  Bohon!" 

"By  your  side,  there — cleaned  and  load 
ed—" 

"The  head  scarf  of  Nez  Coupe!" 

"On  the  pillow  by  you.  And  see — the  ear 
ring  of  Johanness — " 

"Where  the  devil  is  the  other  one?"  roared 
the  Bottle  Emperor  testily. 

"I  could  not  get  the  other  one  unless  I  cut 
the  bo'sun's  left  ear — " 

"Name  o'  evil! — why  don't  you  obey  me!" 
He  thrust  out  a  skinny  finger  and  shook  it 
with  a  lordly  wrath. 

Monsieur  Lafitte  shrugged  exculpatingly. 

"Eh,  well!  Can't  you  be  satisfied?  You 
have  plundered  them  all!  You  have  laid  a 
solid  shot  through  a  good  ship,  killed  your 
man  on  a  red  deck — boasted,  swaggered; 
robbed  nine  buccaneers  in  a  row — and  looted 
a  jewel  from  a  woman!" 


326  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"Not  so  soon.  A  pot  o'  gold,  that  also  is 
essential.  Fetch  it  at  once — " 

The  master  shrugged;  then  with  a  patient 
sigh,  he  scattered  from  his  pockets  an  arc  of 
Spanish  doubloons  across  the  silken  coverlet. 
"There,  corsair!  That  is  all  I  have  to  be 
robbed  of.  Now,  rest,  Mad  John." 

"Another  thing.  The  name — Sazarac— it 
was  the  name  she  loved." 

"Perdition!"  The  other  man  turned  to  the 
bedside:  "Well,  then — be  Sazarac.  Mon 
sieur  Sazarac  was  also  a  ghost.  He  never 
dared  step  from  the  shadows  to  her  eye,  more 
than  did  you.  Be  comforted,  old  friend! 
Jean — of  the  old  days — is  with  you.  The 
others  have  gone  a  little  time  before." 

"Sazarac — "  murmured  the  other,  and  the 
old  plaintive  tone  came  again  to  him:  "I 
demand  that  also  ...  it  is  the  name  she  will 
remember — " 

"Well,  then!  Name  o'  God!  Take  every 
thing  from  me — strip  me  to  the  hide !  See — 
I  dub  you — Sazarac." 

Monsieur  Lafitte  touched  him  upon  his 
bloody-bandaged  shoulder  with  the  rusty  cut 
lass  of  Gorgio,  the  dead  Catalan.  "Now, 
boaster — Sazarac !" 


THE  LOOT  OF  A  BUCCANEER        327 

Monsieur  Sazarac  laid  back  upon  the  em 
peror's  pillows.  He  motioned  to  the  emper 
or's  decanter.  "A  peg  o'  cognac,  Monsieur 
Lafitte." 

He  moistened  his  tongue  with  the  drink 
fastidiously,  and  rubbed  his  unshaven  chin. 
A  square  of  blue  hung  above  him  through  the 
open  skylight,  and  against  it  the  snowy  burst 
of  sail.  He  could  hear  the  creak  of  blocks 
and  gear,  the  faint  shout  of  sailormen  aloft 
to  Clark,  the  English  lad  at  the  wheel,  as  the 
new  crew  of  the  emperor's  ship  set  the  royals. 

"See  here?"  exclaimed  Monsieur  Sazarac 
thoughtfully.  "The  flag  I  once  painted  at  my 
studio  in  the  rue  Conti — black  with  the  white 
bones?  You  will  hoist  it  to-morrow  when 
they  all  go  over." 

"Eh?  Over?— Well,  I  understand.  Mon 
sieur,  the  black  flag  shall  be  at  the  peak." 

"How  many  are  there  in  the  row  by  the 
fo'cas'le  for  me  to  command?" 

"Nine.    You  will  make  ten,  Monsieur  Saz 


arac." 


"It  must  be  done  by  precedence — "  ordained 
the  other  loftily.  "First,  I — Monsieur  Saz 
arac — with  my  plunder.  It  is  all  to  be 


328  CAPTAIN  SAZARAC 

wrapped  in  my  silk-lined  cloak  and  tied  very 
tightly  to  my  belt — " 

"Dieu  de  Dieu!"  whispered  the  other;  and 
then  to  himself:  "Is  this  the  fever?  .  .  . 
the  brandy?  ...  or  the  secret  soul  of  my 
friend?" 

Monsieur  Sazarac  suddenly  thundered  to 
recall  his  lieutenant's  mind. 

"Silence!  I  was  saying — in  precedence! 
First,  Monsieur  Sazarac.  Then,  Beluche,  the 
admiral;  Johanness,  the  bo'sun — and  then  the 
others  to  the  green  water.  I  order — you  will 
obey." 

"I  will  obey,  Monsieur  Sazarac."  The  last 
adventurer  turned  away  as  if  he  had  a  peti 
tion  to  offer.  It  was  hard  to  conceal  that  he 
desired  to  keep  one  little  thing  for  himself 
out  of  this  ravishment. 

"See  here — Corsair.  The  little  bracelet 
iwhich  you  ordered  must  be  stolen?  Is  it 
needful  that  it  go  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea 
with  you  to-morrow?" 

Monsieur  Sazarac  fixed  his  bright  restless 
eyes  upon  the  other's  somber  attentive  face. 
The  flicker  of  a  wise  ruthless  smile  came  to 
him. 


THE  LOOT  OF  A  BUCCANEER        329 

"It  is  needful.  It  is  my  plunder.  It  was — 
hers.  Name  o'  names!  There  can  be  no  dis 
cussion  !  Pin  it  to  my  new  waistcoat — do  you 
understand?" 

The  last  man  turned  away  from  the  em 
peror's  bedside.  He  took  his  snuff  absently, 
and  sat  down  with  the  air  of  one  who  had 
lost  the  last  battle.  Then  he  looked  at  the 
plunder  of  Monsieur  Sazarac  upon  the  em 
peror's  pillow. 

"Even  the  bracelet—"  he  sighed.  "What  a 
buccaneer,  this  Sazarac  .  .  .  and  to-morrow 
he  will  be  less  lonely  than  I!" 

Monsieur  Sazarac,  outstretched  with  some 
luxurious  peace  upon  the  silken,  imperial 
coverlet,  appeared  to  hear  this  whisper.  He 
turned  to  see  the  other  man  staring  out  the 
open  port  at  the  sloop  rolling  in  the  gentle 
seas. 

"They  have  reached  the  deck,"  murmured 
Lafitte  absently.  "She  is  in  De  Almonaster's 
arms  .  .  .  she  is  crying,  or  laughing,  I  can 
not  say  which,  but  she  is  waving  a  little  hand 
to  us—" 

"To  Sazarac — I  will  have  that,  too,"  smiled 
the  jester.  "My  ragged  heart  has  always 


330  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

longed  for  a  tear  or  a  smile  from  a  lady. 
What  riches  I  have — at  the  end!  Here — 
Monsieur  Lafitte — "  He  lifted  Mademoi 
selle  Lestron's  bracelet  and  tossed  it  to  the 
other.  "Out  of  the  wealth  of  my  empire  and 
my  love  I  give  you  this  trinket  as  a  keepsake 
from  her  and  from  myself.  Sazarac  must  be 
generous  to  the  last,  eh — Jean?" 

"He  must  fail  in  nothing."  The  adventur 
er  lifted  the  bracelet  to  his  lips  and  smiled  in 
turn :  "He  must  be  as  she  dreamed  from  the 
first.  Thank  you,  Monsieur  Sazarac." 

And  the  two  watched  the  distant  figures 
on  the  Hornet.  They  could  not  know  what 
the  girl  was  crying  out  from  her  lover's 
arms: 

"Raoul!  The  Seraphine  is  not  following 
us!  She  is  sailing  eastward  after  all.  .  .  . 
Oh,  Raoul,  what  is  the  mystery?" 

"The  seas  are  wide — there  are  many  far, 
secret  places  for  Monsieur  Sazarac,"  he  whis 
pered.  "Louise!  Dearest — and  always 
longed  for!  .  .  .  you  love  me!  .  .  .  you 
love  me!" 

"I  love  you."  She  smiled  out  of  her  tears, 
glad  for  his  arm,  his  tenderness,  his  under- 


THE  LOOT  OF  A  BUCCANEER        331 

standing,  when  her  eyes  turned  again  to  the 
black  schooner  with  the  gold  line  along  the 
water.  It  had  broken  out  to  snowy  sail;  it 
was  growing  smaller,  fainter,  in  the  east,  like 
a  lily  floating  in  the  sun-wash  of  the  gulf. 

"In  New  Orleans  you  will  know  every 
thing,"  Raoul  smiled,  out  of  his  joy.  "I  will 
tell  you  everything — and  of  my  love  again! 
Look,  dearest  .  .  .  Sazarac,  a  phantom 
fading  into  the  mist!" 

"Ah,  but  my  little  bracelet!  In  the  end, 
perhaps  I  shall  understand  everything  except 
why  he  stole  my  bracelet!" 

Which  was  exactly  the  way  things  fell  out. 

Long  years  afterward  Madame,  the  Coun 
tess  de  Almonaster's  children — and  then  the 
children  of  her  children — stood  before  a 
shabby  little  shop  which  was  once  Pierre 
Maspero's  gaming-house,  and  looked  across 
at  the  faded  facade  of  the  gray  house  which 
their  forefather  built  for  the  exiled  emperor. 
They  went,  also,  of  a  Sunday  afternoon, 
among  the  tourists,  to  the  low  tomb  in  the  old 
St.  Louis  cemetery  where  the  city  had  carved 
a  flattering  inscription  from  Voltaire's  "Hen- 
riade"  to  the  memory  of  an  honest  councilor : 


332  CAPTAIN  SAZARAG 

"The  Victor  of  a  Hundred  Fights  on  Sea 
and  Land." 

Ah,  what  jests  may  live  in  stone! 

Madame,  the  countess,  could  relate  every 
thing  to  her  children,  except  about  the  brace 
let  of  Marie  Antoinette.  At  times,  from  the 
gallery  of  her  great  house  on  the  Esplanade 
in  old  New  Orleans,  Madame  would  look 
across  the  mighty  Mississippi  to  the  dark  and 
flooded  forests  of  Barataria  beyond  which 
lay  the  blue  gulf  into  which  Monsieur  Saza- 
rac  vanished  forever  from  the  world  of  men. 

Eh,  bien!  The  adventurer  might  come 
again  some  day  with  her  bracelet  .  .  .  but 
over  Monsieur's  shoulder  would  peer  his  last 
ragged  follower  whispering  that  a  jester,  too, 
might  love! 

THE  END 


DATE 


21-95m-7,'37 


• 


/ 

ATI/ 


YB"  33067 


962342 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


